Secret Smiles
by PsychoLeopard
Summary: The very last thing Tuon was expecting when she arrived to oversee the Return was to be kidnapped by a ruffian. But she is adaptable, and poised, and maybe just a tiny bit intrigued. Follows CoT, KoD from Tuon’s eyes.
1. A Promise

_A/N: CoT, from Tuon's pov. Like many, I am very intrigued by the Mat-Tuon storyline, and wish there was more. The characters are probably horribly out of character, and my twist is probably boring besides. I intend to continue, but it may take me awhile. Please review and tell me what you think. No flames please, I'm not allowed to have fire in my dorm room._

Disclaimer: I do not own the Wheel of Time, Robert Jordan does. All the dialogue andmost of the character actions come straight from Crossroads of Twilight. Please don't sue me, as I have neither money nor a lawyer.

The High Lady Tuon tried to remain interested in her book. She tried to pretend she was not in a cramped wagon with two other women, dressed in what might as well have been a sack, not even allowed to see daylight. She tried to pretend she was not bothered by what Setalle had told her. She _would_ remain true to the course she had chosen. However uncomfortable she might be, and however much she doubted it.

She looked up when the door opened, and the source of her discomfort entered. He was handsome enough, she supposed, but he looked different than he had in the palace. He was dressed much plainer, for certain, and missing both his silk scarf and his signet ring. She still did not know why he had taken her. Not really. He had been intending to leave her in the stables, until Selucia let slip that she was the Daughter of the Nine Moons. That had been what changed his mind, she was sure of it. And then he named her his wife, three times, just like for the ceremony. She still wasn't sure what her answer would be, or even if he knew he had asked the question. But why would he have said that in the first place? Enough. She would not let him put her off balance. She was who she was, and she could still control herself, and Selucia.

"Setalle has been keeping me informed. She's told me the story you have put about concerning me, Toy," Tuon drawled coolly.

"My name is Mat."

Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest projectile she could reach: a pottery cup. She threw it at his head, and had the pleasure of seeing him drop to the floor hastily. But that wasn't enough for her.

"I am a _servant_, Toy?" she demanded as coldly as she knew how. Ooh, but that made her want to hand him to the Seekers. "A _thieving_ servant?" She stood, disregarding the book as it slid to the floor, and reached for the chamber pot. "A _faithless_ servant?" As if she could possibly be any on of those three things! The nerve! The gall! The utter lack of respect!

"We will need that," Selucia explained as she took the chamber pot away. Then she set herself at Tuon's feet, ready to attack the man at a word.

Setalle handed her another cup from the shelf. "We have plenty of these."

Alright, they had a point. Tuon pretended not to see the look Mat shot at Setalle.

Someone thumped on the door. "Do you need help in there?"

"We have everything well in hand," Setalle called, calmly taking up her embroidery again. "Go on about your work. Don't dawdle."

Tuon had to fight not to smile. She looked down at the painted cup, turning it over as if the answers to all her questions lay written among the flowers. The man might think he was in charge, but if he thought that, she would quickly teach him otherwise. "I will not be a servant, Toy." She used a perfectly reasonable tone, merely making a statement.

"My name is Mat, not…that other thing," he said as he stood.

Tuon thought about throwing the cup at him, but he was continuing. "I could hardly tell the showfolk I'd kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons." He sounded exasperated, on edge. Good.

"The High Lady Tuon, peasant! She is under the veil!" Selucia informed him fiercely.

Tuon moved her hand in a gesture laden with meaning. "It is of no import, Selucia. He is ignorant, yet. We must educate him. But you will change this story, Toy. I will not be a servant." The very idea was preposterous.

"It's too late to change anything," Mat protested. "Nobody's asking you to _be_ a servant. I couldn't leave you behind to raise an alarm. I know Mistress Anan has explained it to you." He paused as if about to say more, then said only, "I know she's already told you this, but I promise no one's going to hurt you. We're not after ransom, just getting away with our heads still attached. As soon as I can figure out how to send you home safe and sound, I will. I promise. I'll make you as comfortable as I can until then. You'll just have to put up with the other."

What he said made some sense, at least. "It seems I will see what your promises are worth, Toy." Selucia hissed, but Tuon hushed her a hand signal. She knew what she was doing.

"Answer me a question, Tuon."

She waited.

"How old are you?"

_How dare he!_ She straightened and put on her imperial face as she recited, "My fourteenth true-name day will come in five months." Try as she might, she couldn't keep the heat from her voice. She noted the change in his expression, and realized she needed to clarify. "No; you keep your birth names here, don't you. That will be my twentieth naming day. Are you satisfied, Toy? Did you fear that you had stolen a…child?" What sort of thoughts were going through his head?

He waved his hands frantically as if to ward off her anger. "I just wanted to know, that's all," he lied. "I was curious, making conversation. I'm only a little older myself."

Tuon studied him. He was unlikely to explain now, after lying. The man would try her patience to the limit. She tossed the cup she had almost forgotten about onto the bed and sat carefully. Some habits were hard to break. She looked him over briefly, then asked, "Where is your ring?"

She saw his hand react unconsciously, and almost smiled. "I don't wear it all the time," he explained. He moved to sit on the bed, but Selucia slid onto it swiftly. Setalle obviously had no intention of moving over, so he was left to lean against a cabinet. When he slouched, Tuon frowned. He should not act so at ease in her presence. Then he had the temerity to grin!

Tuon breathed out very slowly, holding her temper for all she was worth. Remembering something, she asked almost absently, "Do you remember Hawkwing's face, Toy?" Neither Setalle nor Selucia understood why she would ask such a question, but she concentrated on Mat.

She was certain his face froze. His eyes seemed very far away, as if he was seeing something beyond the wagon. And he took entirely too long to answer. Any man would have answered immediately after getting over his surprise. Mat did not look surprised so much as caught.

He took a deep breath before finally answering with very careful words. "Of course I don't! Light, Hawkwing died a thousand years ago! What kind of question is that?"

As she opened her mouth, she considered and discarded a dozen possible replies. What was he hiding? "A foolish one, Toy. I can't say why it popped into my head."

He seemed to accept her answer. "My name is Mat. Mat Cauthon."

She ignored him. "I cannot say what I will do after returning to Ebou Dar, Toy. I have not decided. I may have you made _da'covale_. You are not pretty enough for a cupbearer, but it might please me to have you for one. Still, you have represented certain promises to me, so it pleases me now to promise, as well. So long as you keep you promises, I will neither escape nor betray you in any way, nor will I cause dissension among your followers. I believe that covers everything necessary." She fell silent and waited for his reply. She had no doubts how he would choose.

He almost whimpered, and swallowed, before saying, "Well, that does all right for you, but what about Selucia?"

"Selucia follows my wishes, Toy," Tuon said. Why did he wait?

She was surprised when he spat in his palm and expected her to shake it.

"Your customs are…earthy," she told him dryly, before spitting in her palm and taking his hand. "'Thus is out treaty written; thus is agreement made.' What does that writing on your spear mean, Toy?"

She didn't know why her question should make him whimper. It seemed a strange thing to do.

Someone knocked on the door, and Mat spun. Knives appeared in his hands from nowhere. "Stay behind me."

The door opened, and a white-haired old man entered. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything?

Mat's face turned the most glorious shade of red as he slid the knives back up his sleeves. "What did you find out, Thom?"

"The streets are full of rumors about her," Thom replied with a nod towards _her_, "but nothing about her disappearing. I bought drinks for a few Seanchan officers, and they seem to believe she's snug in the Tarasin Palace or off on an inspection trip. I didn't sense any dissembling, Mat. They didn't know."

She couldn't believe this! He must truly be ignorant of the Empire, if he expected rumors of her kidnapping. "Did you expect public announcements, Toy? As it is, Suroth may be considering taking her own life for the shame. Do you expect her to spread such an ill omen for the Return about for everyone to see on top of that?"

"There's more, Mat," Thom said, with a strange look for Tuon. "Tylin's dead. They're keeping it quiet for fear of disturbances, but one of the Palace Guards, a young lieutenant who couldn't hold his brandy, told me they're planning her funeral feast and Beslan's coronation for the same day."

That might present a minor problem for the Return. Only a minor one, of course.

"How?" Mat demanded. Tuon glanced at him. He had been involved with Tylin. She knew that much. Her pet, her toy.

Thom hesitated before replying. "She was found in her bedchamber the morning after we left, Mat, still bound hand and foot. Her head….Her head had been torn off."

Mat's knees gave way and he hit the floor. He looked lost. "The Windfinders?"

"According to what that lieutenant said, the Seanchan have settled on Aes Sedai for the blame. Because Tylin had sworn the Seanchan oaths. That's what they'll announce at her funeral feast."

"Tylin dies the same night the Windfinders escape, and the Seanchan believe the Aes Sedai killed her? That doesn't make sense, Thom." He sounded only half aware.

"It could be political, in part, but I think that's what they really believe, Mat," Thom offered. "That lieutenant said they're sure the Windfinders were running too hard to stop or go out of their way, and the quickest path out of the palace from the _damane_ kennels does nowhere near Tylin's apartments."

Mat grunted, apparently unconvinced. Tuon directed Selucia with hand gestures to speak.

"The _marath'damane_ had reason to murder Tylin. They must fear her example for others. What reason had the _damane _you speak of? None. The hand of justice requires motive and proof, even for _damane_ and _da'covale_."

Tuon's hands stilled as Mat looked her way. She didn't know why it was important that he not see her speak with them. "Did you care for Tylin so deeply?" she asked cautiously, aware that this might cause him pain.

"Yes. No. Burn me, I _liked_ her!" He turned away from her, pushing his hat off. "And I left her tied up and gagged so she couldn't even call for help, easy prey for the _gholam_," he added. "It was looking for me. Don't shake your head. Thom. You know it as well as I do."

What was this? "What is a…_gholam_?" Tuon inquired.

"Shadowspawn, my Lady," Thom replied. He showed respect, at least. "It looks like a man, but it can slip through a mousehole, or under a door, and it's strong enough to….Well, enough of that. Mat, she could have had a hundred guards around her, and it wouldn't have stopped that thing."

What he described could not be so. It sounded like a story to frighten children. "A _gholam_," she murmured. She rapped Mat's head to draw his attention back to her. "I'm very happy that you show loyalty to Tylin, Toy," she was, though she didn't want to think too much about why, "but I won't have superstition in you. I will not have it. It does Tylin no honor." He hardly seemed to hear or appreciate her comment.

Someone knocked on the door again, but Mat failed to react this time. A strange man entered rudely and ignored all but Mat. "Joline wants you, Cauthon."

Tuon was surprised by the spurt of jealousy. "Who is Joline?"

Mat seemed not to hear her. "Tell Joline I'll see her once we're on the road, Blaeric."

"She wants you now, Cauthon."

Mat sighed and rose. Tuon could not believe he would go to another woman just because she asked it. He had no right! "Who is Joline, Toy?" she demanded again, deliberately using the nominative he hated so much.

"A bloody Aes Sedai," he crumbled as he placed his hat on his head and headed for the door.

Tuon very nearly reached for the cup to throw at the door as it closed behind the men. Not even a word of farewell! She would teach him some respect. And he had better keep his promise! And what was an Aes Sedai doing in the camp, one that Mat knew? He was keeping secrets, and she didn't like that.

She would discover his secrets, and she would learn of him. _Before_ she made her choice.


	2. The First Lesson

_AN: I apologize deeply. I had a bad case of writer's block and then left the book behind when I returned to school, but that's really no excuse, is it? Here's the next installment. I've read about half of KoD. I don't think there are any spoilers, but I have altered one or two things. All caps is Tuon speaking to Selucia, or vice versa. I may edit the first chapter a touch, I haven't decided. Anyway, enjoy and review if you are so inclined._

_Disclaimer: It's not mine. WOT and all it's associated characters, plot, merchandise, etc belongs to Robert Jordan. Once again, the dialogue is taken straight from CoT pp 616-619._

* * *

The wagon started moving not long after Toy left. Tuon returned to her book or talked with Setalle for several hours. The former innkeeper was an interesting companion, but she surely had some strange notions. No matter. Tuon enjoyed her discussions with the woman.

Shortly after they stopped for the night a white-haired man—not Thom, the other one—and the ugly boy joined them. Noal regaled them with amazing tales—the man was a fantastic liar. Olver asked so charmingly for someone to play Snakes and Foxes with him that Tuon settled down on the floor asking how to play.

She hardly noticed when Noal stopped talking, but she did look up when the door opened. Toy stood there, with that traitorous woman behind him. Olver turned too, to greet Toy.

"Noal has been telling us about Co'dansin, Mat. That's another name for Shara. Did you know the Ayyad tattoo their faces? That's what they called women who can channel, in Shara," Olver babbled cheerfully.

"No, I didn't," Toy replied, glaring at Noal for some reason. Why should Toy glare? He was just as bad with tales.

Noal, far from being insulted, straightened. "I remember now.

"'Fortune rides like the sun on high

'with the fox that makes the ravens fly.

'Luck his soul, the lightning his eye,

'He snatches the moons from out of the sky.'"

When he finished his recitation, Noal looked around at everyone else and explained, "I've been trying to remember that. It's from the Prophecies of the Dragon."

Tuon suppressed a chill. Toy had a signet ring that fit the second line perfectly. She had not realized that Toy was in the Prophecies, though. She wasn't particularly fond of that last line, either.

"Very interesting, Noal," Toy muttered, sounding anything but intrigued. "Maybe some time you can recite the whole thing for us. But not tonight, eh?"

Tuon watched him, wondering why he should feel uncomfortable at hearing the Prophecies. Almost to herself, Tuon murmured "Toy doesn't mean to be rude. He just has never been trained in manners. But it is late, Master Charin; time for Olver to be in bed." The Light knew how late the boy would stay up if someone didn't look out for him. "Perhaps you will escort him to his tent? We'll play again another time, Olver. Would you like me to teach you to play stones?"

Olver expressed his eagerness, tempting a smile from Tuon. He was a good boy, despite what he must have learned from Toy. He was very polite too, bowing and thanking her for playing with him before he left. A good lad.

"You have a reason for interrupting me, Toy?" Tuon asked, turning her attention once more to the man. "It _is_ late, and I was thinking of going to sleep."

Now the man bowed, well after he should have. He had the effrontery to smile at her, too. She did not trust his smiles. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right. These wagons are uncomfortable, on the road." As if she did not know that. "And I know you aren't happy with the clothes I could find you. I thought this might make you feel better." He pulled a pouch from his pocket and presented it with pride.

Selucia tensed, ever watchful. Tuon commanded her to relax, however. She did not think Toy meant her any harm. Even so, she studied the simple bag before opening it. Within was a necklace, meant for a Shea Dancer. What this some kind of joke? No, perhaps he did not know what it was. She made a show of studying it, then offered it to Selucia. Her shadow took it with distaste, explaining for Toy's benefit what it was. Then she threw it to the Low Blood, who was trying to blend into the cabinets.

"Put it on!"

The woman obeyed, as well she should. She turned woodenly at Selucia's direction, her face a mask.

"She came for a new name," Tuon mused. "What does she call herself?"

"Leilwin," Selucia offered derisively. "A fitting name for a shea dancer. Leilwin Shipless, perhaps?"

Yes, that would do. Leilwin would never captain a ship again if Tuon had her way. She nodded. "Leilwin Shipless."

Leilwin jerked, then asked to withdraw. She didn't do it properly, though. She bowed, acting as if she were here of her own accord.

"If you want to go, then go," Toy growled. As if he had any right to give permission in Tuon's presence.

"Please, may I withdraw?" Leilwin asked again, this time going to her knees. Tuon ignored her. She was certain the woman would get the idea if she waited.

She did. She kissed the floor and rephrased her request. "Please, I beg leave to withdraw." Tuon signaled to Selucia. SHE MAY GO, BUT WHEN NEXT I SEE HER SHE MUST WEAR A VEIL.

"You will go, Leilwin," Selucia relayed, "and you will not let me see your face again unless it is covered by a shea dancer's veil."

Leilwin scrambled out the door so fast that Tuon knew she had learned her lesson. Hopefully Toy had learned something from this as well. Judging by the smile he was summoning, he had not. Well, she had not expected this to be easy.

"Well, I suppose—"

Tuon raised her hand to speak to Selucia while ostensibly ignoring Toy. ENOUGH. TELL HIM HE MAY GO.

That was one order Selucia was doubtless pleased to receive. "The High Lady is weary, Toy. You have her permission to go."

"Look, my name is Mat. An easy name. A simple name. Mat."

The man truly knew nothing. Tuon ignored him, staring at nothing. He had no right to use her name, and he certainly shouldn't expect her to use his! Not yet, anyway. He could not have it so easy. Only he did not seem to want to make it easier for her, either.

Setalle came to her rescue, setting aside her embroidery and rising. "Young man, if you think you're going to lounge about till you get to see us readying for bed, you're sadly mistaken."

That did the trick. He finally left, and not a moment too soon. Tuon wasn't certain she could hold her temper for much longer. What was it about the man that irritated her so?

And why, of all men, must he be the one?

* * *

_I decided to end it here simply because it felt long enough and it seemed like a good stopping point. Expect the next chapter to contain the rest of "A Cluster of Rosebuds." Thanks to Catticus, Purpleme43 and White-Wolf2 for reviewing and offering suggestions. Cookies for all._


	3. Playing Games

_AN: Sorry for the wait. Here's the rest of "A Cluster of Rosebuds." I'm not really pleased with the ending, but since I'm unlikely to get it right I thought I'd put this up now. Thanks to all my reviewers, and the people who read without reviewing (I know you're out there). Yes, I've read KoD. _

_Disclaimer: Mat, Tuon, the characters, plot, and world of Wheel of Time belong exclusively to Robert Jordan. The plot and most of the dialogue come straight from pp 620-628 of Crossroads of Twilight (With the exception of the last 4 paragraphs). Please don't sue me, as I am but a poor college student tormented by cruel muse-bunnies._

* * *

Toy returned the next night alone. She was not quite sure how he convinced her to play a game of stones, but she found herself sitting on the floor across from him with the board between them. He seemed indecisive and distracted. Tuon stifled disappointment. She had been hoping for more of a challenge. 

Perhaps he had let her win. If so, she had a thing or two she would like to tell him. She was no child to be given an easy game. She was the Daughter of the Nine Moons, trained in intrigue since before she could walk. Anyone who thought her incapable deserved to be sold on the block.

"You don't play very well, Toy," she mocked him. His face looked stunned as he took in the board. He recovered quickly, however, bowing and leaving without making himself obnoxious.

Once the door had closed behind him, Tuon let out the laugh she had been holding back. She glanced at Setalle, who was shaking her head. She didn't look disapproving, only amused. Selucia _did_ look disapproving, but there was hardly anything she could do about it. Come to that, there was little Tuon could do about it. Perhaps her road would be more amusing than she had thought.

The next night she got a rude surprise. When Toy arrived, he brought a paper flower which he presented to Selucia, of all people. Tuon was surprised. Surely he would not court her maid with her there! But no, he was sitting down to stones again.

He was not nearly so easy to trap this night. He did not dither over his moves. He countered many of her traps before she could even set them up. Now this was more like it! There was no doubt now that he had a good mind behind all that foolishness.

He brought other gifts for Selucia on the following nights, but he paid attention exclusively to Tuon. She wondered if he was trying to curry Selucia's favor, not that it was likely to work. She stilled the irritation she felt whenever he handed a new flower to her maid.

Then, one night he brought a gift for her instead of Selucia. It was very pretty, all in silk and well-made. He didn't hand it to her, just left it beside the board as they sat down to play.

Very canny. She did not have to accept his gift, but she rather thought she might. Selucia was very fond of her own flowers, and this one was even finer. Not that she could be won over by gifts alone, but she did like being remembered.

However, this gave him the upper hand, though he might not know it yet. To put him off balance—he was entirely too confident, she remarked, "I've changed my mind, Toy. You play very well." She might have been talking about the game, but by the look on his face he knew she was not.

After the game, she made her own move. "I have kept my word, Toy. No attempts to escape, no attempts at betrayal. This is confining. I wish to take walks. After dark will do. You may accompany me." She glanced at the rosebuds to be sure he understood her meaning. She would allow him to court her, but only to a point. Besides, she wanted a better idea of what kind of man he was. "To make sure I don't run away."

Selucia and Setalle followed them at a distance, but they might as well have been alone. Toy tried asking questions of her, but she was too well practiced at deflection to give anything away. He, on the other hand, was positively open about most things.

He talked about his home and his family. When she asked him what he did, he replied only that he was a gambler, without explaining what he was doing away from home.

"My father called himself a gambler. He died of a bad wager," Tuon murmured softly, watching for his reaction. He seemed a little unsure of what to say. He didn't ask any further questions that night, though she had expected him to. Very strange.

Some questions he deflected clumsily, like the question over how many women he had kissed. Perhaps he thought her too sheltered to understand. Perhaps she was.

For some reason he stayed away for two days. She was surprised to find herself irritable and annoyed because of it. She felt restless, unable to settle to any one thing. She told herself it was the captivity and not wondering why he hadn't come. He couldn't have lost interest so quickly, could he?

Perhaps that was why she chose to sit on the seat of the wagon when they crossed the Eldar. She wanted him to remember that this was a dangerous game, and she was not so patient as to wait forever. The expression he wore when he recognized her was very gratifying. She was certain he was going to swallow his tongue.

That night, he returned to the wagon again. Tuon had been hoping for this, and was ready.

"You promised to make me comfortable, Toy," she reminded him coolly. "I would prefer clothing fitting to my rank and station." She did not hide her distaste for the poorly tailored dress she had been wearing.

He eyed her dubiously for a moment, and then replied, "I'll think on it. I don't know quite where I'm going to find you silk dresses out here."

She accepted that without a protest, because she _knew_ what answer he would have to give. He had promised, and she only had to keep her promise so long as he kept his. She had regained the upper hand, and this pleased her.


	4. An Outing

_AN: Well, here's the next chapter. This was going to go through the entire "Something Flickers" chapter, but I decided it was too long and I wasn't feeling creative enough. So I chopped it off roughly in the middle and gave you the first part to tide you over while I finish the second. It's not really quite the way I want it…but I don't expect it to improve very much. I would also love feedback on whether I should continue through book 11 or end it with the next chapter._

_I want to thank the three people who reviewed since my last post, and all the lovely people making my hit counter soar. Since my stats are skewed after that last reset, I have the highest hits for this story. Thanks for making me feel so worthwhile!_

_Disclaimer: If I owned the Wheel of Time, Rand would still be bumbling around in Caemlyn somewhere, probably, and the whole thing would be about Mat. As usual, the plot and most (but not all) of the dialogue is drawn from pages 631-640 of Robert Jordan's Crossroads of Twilight. I am doing this purely for your and my entertainment, and there's really no point in suing me since you can't take what I don't own._

* * *

It took him three days to agree to her request. She didn't let it bother her, since she knew what his answer would be. 

She dressed carefully that morning. She made sure she was completely concealed, and that Selucia was too. It wouldn't do to discomfit him enough for him to change his mind. They left the wagon to wait outside. Tuon didn't want to spend one moment more in that wagon than she had to. She took a deep breath of the winter air and pretended that she didn't see the armsman giving them strange looks. She raised her chin and pretended indifference to the world around her as she waited.

Toy arrived later than she wished, but sooner than she expected. He was decently garbed, for once, in good wool and silk. She was surprised he knew how to dress himself. Unless Leilwin had helped him. Tuon suppressed the sudden discomfort that thought provoked.

He bowed with a flourish, as if he were a performer. "Are you ready to go shopping?" he inquired boldly.

"I have been ready for an hour, Toy," she replied coolly. Mustn't let him think he had the upper hand. She made a show of eyeing his clothing, even inspecting his coat, as if to make certain he wouldn't embarrass her. "Lace suits you. Perhaps I will have lace added to your robes if I make you a cupbearer."

She knew she wouldn't do any such thing, but she liked watching his control slip. She liked being the one that discomfited him. If he was going to turn her world upside down, the least he could do is put up with the same. The lace did look good, though. It almost made him look civilized.

"Do you want me to come along, my Lord?" that armsman inquired. Tuon glanced at him, but he was very carefully not looking at anyone. "Just to carry, maybe?"

Tuon looked back at Toy, eyes hard and implacable. She dared him to bring the soldier and display his doubt in her word. He would suffer if he did that, and she wanted him to know it.

Somehow, he got the message. He jerked his head, sending the soldier off. Then he offered her his arm. She considered it for a moment, and decided that would be too informal. She did not want to encourage him too far, after all. She wanted to see how he handled today, at the least. She wanted assurance that this was what she had to do.

Tuon strode off, trusting Selucia to follow and Toy to catch up. He would not want his captives running off, oh no.

Latelle watched them as they left. Toy stopped to speak to her, just loudly enough for her to hear him.

"I have everything in hand. Believe me, there's nothing to worry about."

Tuon wasn't surprised that Latelle didn't believe him. He didn't sound as if he believed himself. She was quite certain he was aware that he did _not_ have everything in hand.

Latelle frowned at Tuon and Selucia, and then at Toy. "Remember, if you send us to the gallows, you send yourself." She turned back to watching the people entering her show.

After taking a few steps to get out of earshot, Tuon murmured, "She is a good wife for Master Luca." Toy gave her a look akin to a rabbit that had stumbled onto a lion's hunting ground, and resettled his hat. She could just see his thoughts turning, trying to get the meaning out of her statement. In truth, she just wanted to watch his reaction.

She had wondered, sometimes, if he knew what game he was playing. She was certain now that he did. The gifts, the walks, the attempts to learn about her…and the way he reacted to mentions of marriage and making him her cupbearer. She was certain it was on his mind.

He started moving very strangely, leaping about on the road. He fell behind, and she looked back. She was puzzled by his behavior, and asked, "Are you practicing a dance, Toy? It isn't very graceful."

He stopped, opened his mouth, and then looked around slowly. He seemed disturbed by something. He touched his chest, eyes wide and disbelieving. Tuon raised an eyebrow and managed not to ask if he was feeling alright.

"I can't buy you a dress standing here," he said, just as if he was not the reason they had stopped.

Tuon exchanged a glance with Selucia, shaking her head. He was a very strange man, sometimes. Maybe even a good man—she did not know—but he was just like any other in not wanting to admit to acting the fool. She turned and started for the town again, certain that he would follow soon.

The guard let them pass without protest. He looked pretty enough, but nothing like the guards she was used to. Ah, what did it matter?

Jurador was a quaint little town. It was noisy and close. All the buildings looked much the same, though some were a little larger. All had screens for privacy and all were roofed in red tiles. There was a nice symmetry to it. Tables with wares and hawkers lined the streets. Tuon and Selucia stopped at each table offering silk, to test the quality of the goods. She murmured to Selucia about color and weave, and ignored the watchful shopkeepers. Whenever Toy came too close, she stared at him until he backed off. She was resolved that he would not ruin her shopping. Eventually she decided to just ignore him.

Some tables she paused at for awhile, and some she barely glanced at. Nothing here was quite what she wanted. Nor did she want to make this too easy for Toy. This was about her outing, and him making good on a promise. Whatever he had to do to make her comfortable, he had said. Well, if she decided her comfort involved dressing as was her habit, who was he to tell her nay?

At last, she found a table with silk good enough to warrant further investigation. For once, Toy was not at her elbow. She remained unruffled and entered the shop with Selucia. The room was filled with cloth of every color and weight, all of it of good quality. Excellent.

The shopkeeper immediately came forward, eyeing them suspiciously. "Can I help you?"

Tuon did not answer—indeed, dared not—so she simply fingered a bolt of crimson silk.

"What is it you need? Have you the gold to buy that sort of silk?" The shopkeeper was being terribly rude, even if Tuon _was_ dressed poorly. Tuon ignored her, studying another bolt.

"For the last time, if you won't tell me what you're here for, I'm going to send Nelsa for the guards."

Toy burst into the shop at that moment. "They're with me," he announced, tossing a purse onto a table. "Give them whatever they want." By the smile on the woman's face, she would be only too happy to comply. Then Toy turned to her. "If you're going to buy anything, it's going to be here. I've had all the exercise I care for this morning."

Such a strange man. Riding all day or wandering about a dangerous city didn't tire him in the least, but one morning of looking at fabric was all he could handle. And he was finally acting like a captain instead of a deckboy. Interesting. What had put him in this mood, she wondered. She met his eyes and smiled to herself.

Then she turned away to make her choices. The silk here was of good quality, fine weave, and varied. She pointed to bolts of silk in sapphire, azure, navy, indigo, jade, emerald, ruby, scarlet and crimson, measuring with her hands. She picked out a few swatches of linen, and wool for Selucia and herself. The shopkeeper cut it all herself, and everything was folded and wrapped to her satisfaction. Once it was ready, Tuon stared at Toy until he picked up the bundle. Satisfied that he knew his place, she stepped back onto the street with her head held high.

_

* * *

I decided this was the best place to cut my chapter off, seeing as the rest of the action is rather continuous. If you click on that little purple button to the left there, maybe I'll post the next chapter sooner. (Shameless, aren't I?)_


	5. A Traitor

_AN: This picks up right where the last chapter left off, and it's going up before I promised. This is mostly due to the fact I had most of it written, and my hit counter made me happy. Almost 100 hits on last chapter _:o_ Wow, you guys rock. Of course, that does mean, as far as reviews go, you're failing…_

_This is the end of book 10. So, now I have a choice: to end it here, to end it but edit chapter 1, or to continue through book 11. Please do let me know what you think. Otherwise, it's up to my muse bunnies, and they do tend to go AWOL._

_Disclaimer: Still not mine. I wouldn't mind having Mat, though… (cough)…uh, yeah. Most of the dialogue is from pages 640-650 of Crossroad of Twilight. The plot is also not mine. It all belongs to RJ, may he finish the 12th book before I go insane…_

_I apologize in advance for the part near the end. I wasn't feeling very creative. Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

The walk back to the show was pleasant, even knowing she would be back in that stuffy wagon again all too soon. It was sunny and not too cold, and she felt refreshed after her morning in the town. She would have to see about getting Toy to take her out of the show more often. Perhaps in the next unoccupied town they came to. 

Her pleasure was slightly spoiled when one of Toy's men came running as soon as they entered the show. He spoke low, so the people entering the show wouldn't hear, but Tuon paused to listen. "I was coming to find you. It's Egeanin; she's been…hurt. Come quickly."

Tuon frowned, wondering who would have attacked Leilwin within the show. Toy didn't seem to be plagued with the same curiosity. He threw her bundle of silk at one of the horse handlers, muttered something about guarding it, and set off at a run. Tuon considered for a moment, and then motioned for Selucia to take the bundle from the man. Then she set off after the others.

The destination seemed to be the green wagon used by Toy, Leilwin, and her _da'covale_. Latelle was peering under it, and Luca was trying to shoo people along. The _da'covale_ was on the ground, holding Leilwin. Luca was muttering something as Tuon arrived, and gave her a look that quickly morphed to speculation. He did not look pleased by whatever thoughts her presence inspired.

Toy seemed to take little notice, going to one knee to check Leilwin's pulse. "What happened?" he demanded, voice commanding once again. He really was in a mood today. "Have you sent for one of the sisters?"

"Renna!" the _da'covale_—Tuon thought his name was Domon—replied. He suddenly did not look at all meek or servant-like. Where _had_ Leilwin found him? "I did see her stab Egeanin in the back and run. If I could have reached her, I would have broken her neck, but my hand be all that's holding Egeanin's blood in. Where be that bloody Aes Sedai?" He was obviously distraught.

"I be right here, Bayle Domon," announced a woman with that strange face some of the _marath'damane_ had. The woman crouched under the wagon with little hesitation and grabbed Leilwin's head. "Joline do be better at this than I, but I may be able—"

Leilwin convulsed suddenly, and then both women slumped with Domon supporting them both. The _marath'damane_ murmured, "Thank you, but I need no help." She straightened, hand on the side of the wagon, and looked from one on-looker to the next. "The blade did slide on a rib and so did miss her heart. All she does need now be rest and food."

Toy hardly seemed to notice the woman's comment. He was glancing at the show-folk who were watching avidly. Then he turned back to the matter at hand. "Who's looking for her, Juilin? Juilin?"

The man who had fetched them—or rather, fetched Toy—stopped glaring at Tuon and answered, "Vanin and the Redarms, Lopin and Nerim. Olver, too. He was away before I could catch him. But in this…" he gestured towards the street of the fair, where even now the usual noises of many people in one space could be heard. "All she needs is to lay hands on one of those fancy cloaks, and she can slip out with the first folk to leave. If we try stopping every woman with her hood up, or even try looking inside, we'll have a riot on our hands. These people are touchy."

"Disaster," Luca moaned, distressed by the very idea. Tuon very nearly sniffed at him. As if it would really come to that.

"Burn me, why?" Toy growled, looking as if this were a personal insult. "Renna was always ready to lick my bloody wrist. I thought if anybody went over the edge…!"

His man, Juilin, scowled darkly at that. Tuon didn't need it explained to her to know what Toy meant. The sniveling woman on his arm looked none too strong.

Leilwin answered from Domon's arms. "I'm the only one who knew her secret. The only one who might give it away, at least. She may have thought it would be safe to go home, with me dead."

Tuon frowned, not liking the sound of this. Was the woman a worse traitor than she had thought?

"What secret?" Toy asked softly.

After a sigh, Leilwin answered. "Renna was leashed, once. So were Bethamin and Seta. They can channel. Or maybe learn to; I don't know. But the _a'dam_ worked on those three. Maybe it works on any _sul'dam_."

Toy whistled at that, but Tuon paid hardly any attention. Selucia made to protest and took a step towards Domon, but Tuon stopped her. SILENCE. DON'T MOVE. Selucia obeyed, but her eyes were flashing with anger. Not that Tuon was any happier. It didn't take her long to follow what Leilwin had revealed to its conclusion.

Somehow, women who could channel had slipped through the rigorous tests for _marath'damane_. Three of them, no less! It was unconscionable. Inconceivable. Absolutely unacceptable.

Equally unacceptable was that Leilwin had known it and had not reported it. It was her duty to make this report to Suroth. Or…perhaps she had, and Suroth had not reported it to Tuon? If so, than Tuon had something else to consider.

But even worse than missing three _marath'damame_—nay, than giving a _marath'damane_ an honored place as a _sul'dam_, was what Leilwin's last sentence implied. No, she refused to believe it. Leilwin was lying, misinformed. Not about the first part, or Renna wouldn't have run, but that last bit couldn't be true. Tuon refused to accept it.

The sound of horses approaching drew her attention. Four armed men—heavily armed men—trotted towards them, leading a fifth horse. The man in the lead eyed Tuon briefly, then the others gathered around, as if doubting that they should hear what he had to say. He seemed to shrug them off, though, as he reported, "Renna stole a horse, my Lord. Rode down one of the horse handlers at the entrance getting out. Vanin's following her. He says she could reach Coramen some time tonight. That's the way she's headed. She's moving a lot faster than the wagons did. But she's riding bareback; we can catch her, with luck." He spoke as if the luck were a certain thing.

Toy barely hesitated before turning to Luca, saying, "Get your people on the road as fast as they can pack up, Luca. Leave the wall and anything else you can't get onto the wagons fast. Just go." He mounted as he was speaking, his movements sure and steady.

"Are you crazy?" demanded Luca. "If I try to chase those people out, I _will_ have a riot! And they'll want their coin back!"

"Think what you'll have if a thousand Seanchan find you here tomorrow," Toy replied, his voice like ice. Now that was the way to talk to an inferior. He didn't show that sense often. "Juilin, leave all the gold for Luca except one good purse. Gather everybody and ride out as soon as you can. Once you're out of sight of the town, take to the forest. I'll find you."

"Everybody?" Juilin asked, jerking his head at Tuon. "Leave those two in Jurador, and the Seanchan might stop with getting them back. It might slow them down, at least. You keep saying you're going to turn them loose sooner or later."

Tuon met Toy's gaze, face implacable. _He wouldn't really do it, would he? After coming all this way, surely he wouldn't just drop it. If he's the one, then he won't._

She didn't know what he saw in her eyes, but he replied curtly, "Everybody."

She should not be feeling relieved that he had decided to keep her captive. She certainly shouldn't be feeling pleased! Still, she nodded a little to herself, glad that her decision had not been in error.

"Let's ride."

For a moment, Tuon watched him ride his horse away leading his men. She was aware of Luca muttering about riots and the loss of profits. She turned to see that no one had moved much. Juilin was eyeing her doubtfully. Well, she supposed he had some excuse. At some point, the gleeman, Merrilin, had joined them. She wondered how much he had heard of the action.

Luca turned to Juilin. "I'll be taking that gold now, and then you can be on your way."

Merrilin suddenly found knives from somewhere and began playing them over his hands. Juilin loosened his grip on Thera to reach for his sword-breaker. Both men were scowling.

"I'll slit your throat before I hand over a single coin," Merrilin declared menacingly.

"I'll crack your head if you try," warned Juilin.

Luca flourished his cloak and scowled at both of them. "Now see here…"

"I do not think riding off into the wilderness is the best solution," Tuon said thoughtfully.

"But Mat said…" Juilin protested.

"I heard what he said. But I doubt the traitor will reach Coramen. Nor would running save you if she did. It would be easier to continue as we have, hiding in plain sight."

Luca cleared his throat. "Now see here. You all being here has become a danger to the safety of my show, and I must say…"

"Be at ease, Master Luca," Tuon drawled coolly. "Have you forgotten who I am? I am sure I can find some way to set your mind at ease."

Luca gaped for a moment, and then closed his mouth as Latelle laid a hand on his arm.

"What did you have in mind, High Lady?" Latelle asked in a good approximation of humility.

"Perhaps we could discuss this in your wagon?" Tuon suggested pleasantly. She had had enough standing around in the open. She cast the others looks that ordered them about their business and allowed Latelle to lead her to a large and well-furnished wagon. Somehow Luca had a real table and real chairs. It was a vast change from the windowless wagon Tuon shared with Selucia and Mistess Anan. Tuon removed her cloak and took a seat gracefully as Latelle muttered about providing tea and maybe something in the way of a snack.

Tuon waited while Letalle served tea, allowing her plan to formulate more fully. She thought she knew the measure of Master Luca now. There was really no need for any of them to part with any gold at all to ease his fears.

Luca was not a patient man. He barely waited until Latelle handed her a teacup before demanding to know how he was to keep his show safe.

"It is very simple," Tuon explained patiently. "You will be under my protection. No Seanchan would harm you, with my own warrant for you to perform where you please." She lowered her voice and emphasized the last three words. "Have you any paper?"

Luca appeared dumbfounded, but Letalle fetched a sheet of expensive paper quickly enough. As Tuon wrote out her warrant, she warned him, "This is only to be used at need, Master Luca. It is not to be bandied about casually." She did not think Toy would like that. Neither would she, if it came to that. High Lords and Ladies did not patronize menageries and traveling shows very often.

"Of course, of course," he babbled, pleased beyond reckoning. She smiled a little to herself as she began listing who was and was not under her protection. There was no way she was going to protect Toy. He had to get himself out of his own mess. That probably wouldn't please him, but she was curious as to how he would handle it if they did get caught. It might be an interesting situation. She had not promised to help him, after all, only not to betray him.

It was very late when Toy entered the wagon. Tuon had spent a rather pleasant evening with Mistress Latelle and Master Luca. She made a show of choosing a pastry as Toy entered, all cool composure. "Is she captured, or dead?" she asked, as if the answer didn't really matter to her.

"Dead," came the answer, in an unhappy tone. He was obviously not proud of what he had done. "Luca, what in the Light—"

"I forbid it, Toy!" she announced sharply. "I forbid you to mourn a traitor! She earned death by betraying the Empire, and she would have betrayed you as easily. She was trying to betray you. What you did was justice, and I name it so." No one could blame him for killing a _sul'dam_ if she said it was justified. Renna _was_ a traitor.

That didn't seem to appease him, though. He closed his eyes as he asked, "Is everyone else still here, too?"

"Of course. The Lady—the High Lady; forgive me, High Lady." Luca interrupted himself to bow to her. "She talked to Merrilin and Sandar and…Well, you see how it was. A very persuasive woman, the Lady. The High Lady. Cauthon, about my gold. You _said_ they were to hand it over, but Merrilin said he'd slit my throat first, and Sandar threatened to crack my head, and…" He trailed off for a moment that was all too brief. The man _did_ babble on beyond decency. "Look what the High Lady gave me!" He showed off his warrant, as proud as a mother hen with only one chick. "A warrant. Not sealed, of course, but signed. Valan Luca's Grand Traveling Show and Magnificent Display of Marvels and Wonders is now under the protection of the High Lady Tuon Athaem Kore Paendrag. Everyone will know who that is, of course. I could go to Seanchan. I could put on my show for the Empress! May she live forever," he added with another bow.

Tuon hid her smile as Toy sank onto one of the beds in defeat, and raised one hand in warning to Luca. "You are not to use that except at need, Master Luca. _Great_ need!" she reminded him.

"Of course, High Lady; of course."

"I did make specific mention of who is not under my protection, Toy," she told him casually. "Can you guess whose name heads that list?" She smiled, anticipating his reaction. No, he definitely was not pleased.

Then the oddest thing happened. Toy's eyes fell to her shoulder, where she had pinned his gift of rosebuds that morning, and he laughed. The man _laughed_.

Despite everything, she still did not understand this man, and she was not sure she ever would.

* * *

_If you made it this far, please won't you review? Virtual cookies and/or a review of your story if you do._  



	6. Name Games

_AN: I was asked to continue, and so I shall! I'm going to have to get a little more creative with book 11, just due to how it's set up, so bear with me. I'll try very hard to keep everybody in character._

_Disclaimer: Knife of Dreams, its plot, Mat, Tuon and all the rest belong to Robert Jordan. Dialogue and plot come from pages 191-195 of Knife of Dreams, hardcover edition. I'm making absolutely no profit from this, so don't sue. You wouldn't take a poor girl's college money, would you?_

* * *

The next day started off well enough for Tuon. The Show's seamstress had finished the first of her dresses, and Tuon wasted no time donning it. It was amazing how much more comfortable she felt just being properly garbed again. 

Noal and Olver arrived around midmorning. Noal was full of stories that intrigued Tuon as much as they did the boy. The places he claimed to have been sounded wondrous strange. The morning passed pleasantly as she listened to his tales and wondered how many were true.

Then Toy arrived, barging in without so much as knocking. Had his mother taught him no manners at all? She stared at him, face like stone, and berated him coolly. "Manners, Toy. You knock, then wait for permission to enter. Unless you are property or a servant. Then you do not knock." Not that he would make a very good servant. He had not the right demeanor, though she was certain she could teach him. If she wanted to, that is. "You also have grease on your coat. I expect you to keep yourself clean." Honestly! Had the man no decorum at all?

He simply stared at her for a moment with a hungry look in his eyes. She had to fight not to shiver at that look. Then he leered at her. "I'll remember that, Precious." He took a seat and set down his hat without waiting for an invitation—which would not have been given. "I hope there's more water than wine in that cup in front of Olver." Tuon barely heard him, nor Olver's indignant reply.

"What did you call me?" she demanded, certain she had misheard. Calling her by name was bad enough, but pet names? No Seanchan would have dared.

Toy seemed entirely too confident. "Precious. You have a pet name for me, so I thought I should have one for you, Precious."

Tuon considered that for a moment. This might provide some amusement. "I see." She signed to Selucia to find a cup and plate for Toy, and then continued, "Very well. It will be interesting to see who wins _this_ game, Toy." She had the satisfaction of seeing his smile slip a little. Good. She didn't want him too confident, after all.

Noal broke the silence by continuing his tale where he left off, with the Ayyad. That prompted Toy to ask a strange question. It seemed strange to Tuon, at least.

"Are you any relation to Jain Charin, Noal?" He had barely finished the question before spitting the pit of an olive into his palm. Tuon frowned at his eating habits. It seemed she would have to start from scratch with him.

After a heavy silence, Noal finally replied. "A cousin. He was my cousin." Tuon looked up at the man, noting the lie and wondering about it.

"You're related to Jain Farstrider?" Olver asked, looking as if he had just been promised a new toy.

"Who is this man with two names?" Tuon inquired curiously. "Only great men are spoken of so, and you speak as if everyone should know him." She knew the names of the so-called great generals, and some of the jumped-up rulers who would be put in their places, but she did not recall hearing of this Jain fellow before.

"He was a fool," Noal answered quickly, before Olver could explain. "He went gallivanting about the world and left a good and loving wife to die of a fever without him there to hold her hand while she died. He let himself be made into a tool by—" He broke off, his face blank, and rubbed at his forehead.

"Jain Farstrider _was_ a great man," Olver insisted, body tense. "He fought Trollocs and Myrddraal, and he even had more adventures than anyone else in the whole world! Even Mat! He captured Cowin Gemallan after Gemallan betrayed Malkier to the Shadow!"

Tuon fought to hide her frown. More wonder tales, then. Although…they spoke as if he might be real. But if wonder tales were the best of his adventures, what did that say about the rest?

Noal patted the boy's shoulder to calm him. "He did that, boy. That much is to his credit. But what adventure is worth leaving your wife to die alone?" His voice was full of pain and sorrow, and some of the shine left Olver's eyes at his tone.

Tuon stood to pat the old man's arm. "You have a good heart, Master Charin." It was enough that he regretted whatever it was he had done. He should know that.

"Do I, my Lady? Sometimes I think—"

He was interrupted by the door swinging open without a prior knock. Juilin stuck his head in, looking worried. "Seanchan soldiers are setting up across the road. I'm going to Thera. She'll take fright if she hears it from anybody else." Just as suddenly, he was gone.

Tuon turned her eyes to Toy, wondering how he would respond to _this_ situation.

_

* * *

AN: It's a little short, but here's where the chapter ends so I'm ending it here. I just wanted to get this up for you all. I'll try to make the next one longer. Don't forget to review!_


	7. A Gift

_AN: This picks up rather abruptly where I left off, so I have provided a small refresher. Sorry about the lateness, my muses are missing or converted to other fandoms. As far as I can tell, I only have one of these left._

_I'm not terribly pleased with this chapter. It was being difficult. On the plus side, it's longer than usual. Even though it isn't my best, I wanted to post this now since I will be computerless (the horror) until mid-August. I'll try and get the next chapter done by mid-September. As always, please review._

_**Disclaimer:** WOT belongs to RJ, not to me, alas. Plot and the majority of the dialogue come from Knife of Dreams pp 196-231_

_

* * *

Last time:_

_Juilin stuck his head in, looking worried. "Seanchan soldiers are setting up across the road. I'm going to Thera. She'll take fright if she hears it from anybody else." Just as suddenly, he was gone._

_Tuon turned her eyes to Toy, wondering how he would respond to this situation._

**Chapter 7: A Gift  
**

Tuon was mildly pleased to note that Toy took action immediately. The door was still swinging from Juilin's exit when he started speaking. "Noal, find Egeanin and warn her. Olver, you warn the Aes Sedai, and Bethamin and Seta. I'll go down to the entrance and try to see whether we're in any trouble."

"She won't answer to that name," Noal protested as he got to his feet. "You know she won't."

"You know who I mean," Toy snapped, glaring at Tuon. How it was her fault that he did not understand the rules in the Empire, she did not know.

"I'm just saying," Noal muttered. "Come on, Olver."

Toy got up to follow, but Tuon couldn't resist testing him. "No warnings for us to remain inside, Toy? No one left to guard us?"

If he hesitated at all, it was too brief to notice. "You gave your word," he stated. Tuon smiled in satisfaction. He was starting to learn. There was hope for him yet.

As soon as they were alone, Selucia spoke. "High Lady, if I may…?"

Tuon let her smile fade. "Clean this up, please."

"Yes, High Lady." Selucia rose and cleared away the dishes, but she did not forget her protest. "High Lady, are you entirely certain this is necessary? He could send you back now, if there are soldiers here." She was very careful not to imply that Tuon should break her word, because she never would. Even so, the faithful _da'covale_ was obviously anxious about her mistress.

"The situation amuses me," Tuon declared. "Toy is strangely unpredictable, even for an oathbreaker. There is much I feel I do not know, and I must."

"Even so."

"Enough, Selucia. The omens are clear. Besides, I do not think Toy will harm me."

There was little Selucia could say to _that_, and the woman was smart enough not to try. Tuon picked up a book—full of fanciful tales and wild ideas, but entertaining enough to pass the time. The wagon fell into a silence that neither woman bothered to break.

* * *

They were roused early the next morning to move. It seemed there had been some scuffle the day before with a few of the soldiers, and Luca wanted to avoid any further trouble. It seemed rather unnecessary to Tuon—Seanchan troops were more disciplined than that—but she hardly wanted to protest. So, after eating, she and Selucia donned cloaks and hoods and climbed up on the wagon seat with the driver. 

Tuon half-wondered if Toy would try to court her today, but he hung back by the wagon with the _marath'damane_. Tuon frowned a little to herself. Now what could possibly be so interesting about them? She had gotten the idea that he was none too fond of _marath'damane_ or _sul'dam_, even if he did have peculiar notions about them.

Realizing what she was thinking about, Tuon scolded herself and focused on her surroundings. It would not do to miss something important, whether an omen or just a fact about the countryside, simply because she was thinking about a man, of all things. Not that there was much to see, anyway. Just trees and fields like any other.

They stopped in mid-afternoon, at a place called Runnien Crossing. Tuon was glad enough to stop, since it was hardly comfortable to sit on a hard wagon seat all day. Tuon allowed the driver—one of Toy's men—to help her down and then withdrew inside the wagon.

That night the _marath'damane_ made her their first visit. At first, Tuon was too surprised at their audacity to respond. They babbled and demanded, in tones that no property in Seanchan would think to use with even one of the Low Blood. They spoke of treaties Tuon was not interested in, made promises they could not possibly fulfill, and hinted strongly that they knew what was best for her. She would have laughed, if they hadn't been so irritating. She ordered them out and latched the door behind them. Then she turned to Selucia.

SEE IF YOU CAN FIND THE A'DAM THEY USED TO GET OUT OF EBOU DAR. I WILL NEED THEM. BE DISCRETE, she ordered silently. Selucia agreed with alacrity, as she was almost as annoyed by the _marath'damane_ as her mistress.

Tuon found that she was suddenly very popular. Most of her visitors were more pleasant than the _marath'damane_, thankfully. Mistress Anan dropped in often for a chat, and Toy started appearing for midday in addition to their nightly games of stones. Olver had his games with her before that, of course, and Noal often accompanied him. Tuon didn't mind him, since he told such fascinating stories, and who could object to such an endearing little boy as Olver?

She did not spend all of her time in the wagon, of course. Now that she was permitted—permitted!—to wander the show as she pleased, she did so quite often. The wagon was rather cramped, after all, and not at all what she was used to. She spent quite a bit of time with the seamstress, describing how she wanted each dress made, but the rest of the time she just wandered about looking at the show.

The following morning, as Tuon was leaving the wagon for a walk, she noticed that Toy was standing in front of a tent just across from the door of the wagon. Tuon couldn't help questioning him about it.

"Are you placing yourself as my guard now?"

"No. I'm just hoping for more glimpses of you," he answered glibly, with a smile that was supposed to be charming.

HE THINKS HE IS SO ELOQUENT, YET IF HE WERE NOT SO PRETTY I WOULD NOT WASTE ONE SECOND ON HIM, she told Selucia silently. Both of them laughed.

She discovered that Toy was frightfully ignorant about some things. Besides his foolish belief in fanciful monsters, he knew nothing of omens. His knowledge of the Prophecies of the Dragon was faulty, as most on this side of the Aryth Ocean seemed to be. She tried to educate him during their games of stones, but he seemed determined to be difficult about it.

"What do you know of the Dragon Reborn?" she asked him during one of their games of stones.

He choked on his wine, sputtering and coughing and then wiping his mouth with his sleeve of all things. She frowned at that and considered having something scratchy added to his sleeves, to keep him from mistaking them for a handkerchief,

"Well, he's the Dragon Reborn. What else is there to know?" he asked, but he didn't look at her when he said it.

"A great deal, Toy," she told him calmly. "For one thing, he must kneel to the Crystal Throne before Tarmon Gai'don. The Prophecies are clear on that, but I haven't been able to learn where he is. It becomes still more urgent if he is the one who sounded the Horn of Valere, as I suspect."

"The Horn of Valere?" he repeated, staring fixedly at the board. "It's been found then?"

Tuon was beginning to wonder if he always used questions to cover his secrets. Still, she wondered what connection he had to the Horn, if he was trying not to discuss it. "It must have been, mustn't it, if it was sounded?" she suggested dryly, amused at his pretense of ignorance. "The reports I've seen from the place where it was blown, a place called Falme, are very disturbing. Very disturbing. Securing whoever blew the Horn, man or woman, may be as important as securing the Dragon Reborn himself." Then, because he was looking decidedly uncomfortable, she took pity on him. She did not want to make him bolt, after all. Not yet. "Are you going to play a stone or not, Toy?"

The game ended in a draw that night, though at the outset he had been winning. Afterwards, she managed to pinpoint _when_ he had lost control. She wasn't terribly surprised when she realized they had been discussing—it wasn't really a discussion, though, when he wouldn't put forth any useful comments—the Dragon Reborn. That topic was enough to make many uneasy, whether they were of the Blood or not, but she resolved to keep it in mind. There was some mystery there, she was sure of it.

One morning, several days after leaving Jurador, Toy coaxed Tuon out of the wagon, saying he had a surprise. She obligingly covered her eyes, deciding to play along, and said, "I like surprises." He was just like a little boy, all eagerness and mischief. Recalling what else little boys were known for, she added, "Some surprises" in warning. Surely he was too old to give her a muddy frog or some other nonsense.

He left for a moment, and then she heard him returning. "You can look now. I thought you might like a ride. She's yours."

Opening her eyes, she saw a beautifully proportioned horse, all black and white stripes. She immediately gave the mare an inspection, checking teeth, hooves, and everything in between. At first glance, this was a fine specimen. She had rarely seen better, in fact.

"She's a razor," Toy explained, as he patted his own horse. "Domani bloodborn favor razors, and it's not likely you'll ever see another one outside of Arad Doman. What will you name her?"

"It is bad luck to name a horse before riding it," Tuon rebuked him. So this horse was rare, was she? Better and better. The mare would make a fine courting gift. She almost found herself hoping he was the one, if this was how he gifted her. "She's a very fine animal, Toy. A wonderful gift. Either you have a good eye, or you were very lucky."

"I have a good eye, Precious," he answered cheekily. Well, she was not going to argue yet.

"If you say so. Where is Selucia's mount?"

Toy seemed to sigh but he whistled sharply. One of his men brought a dapple, grinning as he did it. Selucia inspected the mount, but it was obviously not as fine as the razor. Well, they could find a better mount for her later. For now, Tuon was too eager to ride to wait. She had not had a proper ride in far too long.

They mounted and walked their horses through the camp. For a time Tuon just enjoyed being in the saddle again. The razor's gait was smoother than she had hoped. Once on the road, Tuon picked up the pace, trying each gait. She found herself becoming more and more pleased with the gift. She didn't bother hiding her smile.

There were a few carts on the road, but they were easily avoided. Then a caravan of brightly painted wagons appeared, heading south. They began to pass, and then Tuon, struck with a sudden, playful urge, turned the razor and set her at a gallop through the trees. She knew Selucia and Toy would follow, but at the moment she was too caught up in the feel of the wind on her face and the pure power between her legs. The razor jumped obstacles and dodged trees like a dream.

Eventually, after at least a mile had passed under the mare's hooves, Tuon slowed. She glanced briefly at her surroundings—an old forest, with a piece of a fallen statue nearby—and then turned in the saddle to see Toy approaching. He was closer than she had expected.

"Your animal is better than he looks," she told him as she patted the razor. Far better than he looked, since he was an ugly thing. "Maybe you do have a good eye."

His eyes wandered over her, lingering briefly on her hair before he scowled at her. He seemed to pay her praise no mind. "Burn how good my eye is. Do you always ride like a moon-blinded idiot? You could have broken that mare's neck before she even got a name. Worse, you could have broken your own." She ignored the shivery feeling that admission gave her, since he was continuing his rant. "I promised to get you home safely, and I mean to do just that. If you're going to risk killing yourself every time you go riding, then I won't let you ride."

She mastered her urge to smile by raising her hood. He seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. Well, it was better than the alternative, she supposed. Still, she could take care of herself, and he was a fool if he thought otherwise. She hoped he didn't think the gift of the razor was enough to make her let him have control over her. Quite the opposite. Then again, maybe he didn't realize yet, what his gift meant. Disappointing, that, but there was no help for it.

"I name her Akein. That means 'swallow.'"

Toy blinked at her, surprised. Maybe he had thought she would respond to his silly ultimatum. "I know. A good name. It suits her."

There was nothing to say to that, and it would take Selucia a bit to catch up on that gentle horse she had been given. To distract him from looking at her—it was such a strange look, and it made her uncomfortable, though she would never show it—she asked, "What is this place, Toy? Or should I say, what was it? Do you know?" Her eyes picked out more and more signs of ruins.

For a moment, he looked confused. Then he frowned, taking in the fallen statue and the other things she had noticed. He opened his mouth, and then his gaze locked on a set of hills in the distance, and he closed it without saying anything. His eyes glazed over briefly, and suddenly he went white.

Never had she seen him react quite like this. So, she brought Akein closer to him. "Toy, are you ill? You've gone pale as the moon."

"I'm right as springwater," he muttered, but his thoughts were obviously not on her. What in the world could have caused this? And he certainly wasn't getting better, so whatever he was thinking couldn't have been pleasant.

"Well, you look as if you're about to vomit. Who in the show would have herbs? I have some knowledge there." It was unfortunate that they were so far away, now. He didn't look fit to ride half a mile.

"I'm all right, I tell you." A moment later, he groaned, putting the lie to his words.

Selucia arrived then, glancing suspiciously at them both. Tuon resisted the urge to rebuke her. She was perfectly capable of defending her own self, if need be. "Next time, you can ride this gentle creature and I will ride your gelding," she told Toy. Then, to Tuon, "High Lady, people from those wagons are following us with dogs. They're afoot, but they will be here soon. The dogs don't bark."

It didn't take her long to realize what that meant. "Trained guard dogs, then. Mounted, we can avoid them easily enough."

"No need to try, and no use," Toy broke in, his voice sure. Whatever had been wrong seemed to have entirely passed. "Those people are Tinkers, Tuatha'an, and they're no danger to anybody. They couldn't be violent if their lives depended on it. That's no exaggeration, just simple truth. But they saw you two go haring off, trying to get away from me as it must have seemed, and me chasing after. Now that those dogs have the scent trail, the Tinkers will follow us all the way back to the show if need be to make sure you two haven't been kidnapped or harmed. We'll go meet them to save time and trouble."

Selucia scowled and asked, DOES HE THINK HE CAN GIVE ORDERS TO A HIGH LADY? Tuon only laughed.

"Toy wishes to be commanding today, Selucia. I will let him command and see how he does." That made him scowl, too, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to. She could see what he thought of it.

They had not gone too far before a large group of people in bright, clashing colors appeared tramping through the trees. Toy dismounted almost immediately, and Tuon decided it would be only polite if she followed his example. That made the people stop, calling their dogs. Then the men approached Toy while the women surrounded Tuon and Selucia.

"Peace be on you and yours, my Lady. Forgiveness if we intrude, but are you all right?" a women with silver hair asked anxiously.

"We saw you riding away from that man. Were you trying to escape? We can give you shelter, if you need it," another offered. Others offered similar statements, not letting Tuon get a word in edgewise.

"Quiet now, and let the Lady answer," the first woman commanded. "My Lady?"

Tuon smiled a little. "No, I wasn't trying to escape. I recently received this mare as a gift, and I wished to try her in more challenging terrain. I did not mean to cause you any trouble." Her eyes cut to where Toy was talking with the men, and she smiled a little more. "We are playing a game, he and I, and I do believe I won this round."

That made the women laugh, and put them at ease. They were willing enough to let her go, after that. As they were riding away, Tuon found herself more cheerful than she would have expected. And when Toy asked what she had told the other women, she couldn't help but laugh. She _had_ won this round, but she didn't tell him that. This game was just getting more interesting all the time.


	8. Marath'damane

_AN: All those reviews made me feel warm and squishy, so I started working on this almost as soon as I returned home, and lo and behold, it practically wrote itself. Granted, that's mostly because I didn't have to make anything up (the first paragraph demonstrates my laziness and lack of creativity). I'll put a bit more effort into the next chapter, which I'll try to write and finish by the end of October. Thank you so much for reading, and don't forget to review if the urge strikes you!_

_Disclaimer: I lack the commitment and inspiration to stick with one plot and resolve nothing for eleven books. All characters, plot, etc, etc, belong to RJ. Dialogue comes straight from pp 241-245 of the hardcover edition of Knife of Dreams. In other words, it's not mine._

* * *

The next day and a half was almost pleasant for Tuon. Toy had done nothing to gain an upper hand in their game, or even an even footing, for that matter. Noal and Olver kept her amused, and watching the countryside was a nice change from the inside of the wagon. The only mar on the day was that the _marath'damane_ insisted on pestering her. Finally, the night after receiving Akein, Tuon had had enough. 

All three sisters entered the wagon without so much as a by-your-leave, interrupting her game with Toy—which she was winning—and one of them began giving her a condescending speech. Condescending, to her! Tuon barely paid attention to the words, but just the gist of it was enough to convince her that this woman needed to be taken down a peg or five. Or better yet, collared with the bracelet hanging on a peg in a cramped wagon.

"Selucia," Tuon ordered calmly, one hand making the sign for _a'dam_ beneath the table. She picked up the bracelets ready in her lap and put them on. Her shadow obediently retrieved one of the _a'dam_ and placed it around Tessie's neck. The instant Tuon completed Tessie, she reached out to shield the other _marath'damane_, bind them in air, and close the door to keep Joline's guards out.Tessie immediately screamed, which distracted the others long enough for Joline to be collared likewise.

Joline, the only one who had not been collared before, immediately opened her mouth to speak. "If you think you can…" Tuon imagined a switch hitting the woman's backside, and she stopped talking abruptly.

"You see, the _a'dam_ can be used to punish, though that is seldom done," Tuon explained as she stood. Seldom done by her, anyway. Constant punishment was only used by those who lacked finesse.

"No. You promised not to harm my followers, Precious," Toy spoke, seeming strangely put out. Tuon was certain these _marath'damane_ had been almost as much of a nuisance to him as to herself. "You've kept your promises so far. Don't go back on one now."

That made Tuon's blood run cold. As if she would ever go back on her word. The very implication was disgusting. "I promised not to cause dissension among your followers, Toy, and in any case, it is very clear that these three are not your followers." These women made no pretense of obeying Toy in anything, and certainly showed him no respect. They were merely nuisances—dangerous nuisances which whom Tuon knew what to do. The small sliding door slid open, and Tuon closed it through Tessie. She ignored the cursing and banging behind it as well as Toy's scowl and turned back to Joline.

"The _a'dam_ can also be used to give pleasure, as a reward," she instructed Joline. She demonstrated this, stimulating feelings of pleasure in the collared woman. Joline reacted as most new _damane_ did, with wide eyes and weak knees. She caught herself quickly, but Tuon, who was connected to her, could feel her emotions. She was amazed, eager, disgusted at being eager, frightened, angry, determined, and struggling to hold to composure. This woman thought herself strong, but she was a fragile reed ready to be broken with a little pressure.

"Listen," Toy interrupted. "If you think, you'll see a hundred reasons this won't work. Light, you can learn to channel yourself. Doesn't knowing that change anything? You're not far different from them." Tuon dismissed this notion and continued the lesson as if she hadn't heard him.

"Try to embrace _saidar_," she commanded Joline. "Go ahead. You know the shield is gone." Tuon waited while Joline attempted to touch the source, and failed. Then Tuon nodded. "Good. You've obeyed for the first time. And learned that you cannot touch the Power while you wear the _a'dam_ unless I wish it." Tuon reached out through the link to touch the Power, and continued, "But now, I wish you to hold the Power, and you do, though you didn't try to embrace it." Tuon willed Joline to let go of the source, and she did, eyes widening. "And now, I wish you not to be holding the Power, and it is gone from you. Your first lessons." The fear the woman was feeling was almost overpowering every other emotion now, except for a steadily rising sense of despair.

"Blood and bloody ashes, woman, do you think you can parade around those leashes without anyone noticing?" Toy broke in, eyes like embers. Tuon wondered almost absently why he should care what happened to these women. They were only _damane_.

"I will house them in the wagon they are using and exercise them at night," she replied angrily, surprised that he couldn't figure that out. It was the obvious solution. She didn't like him questioning her, and she liked him defending these women who should rightly be property even less. "I am nothing like these women, Toy. _Nothing_ like them. Perhaps I could learn, but I choose not to, just as I choose not to steal or commit murder. That makes all the difference." Satisfied that he would understand now, she seated herself and focused on the _damane_ once more. "I've had considerable success with one woman like you," Tuon informed them calmly. One of the women—Edesina?—gasped and murmured a name. "Yes. You must have met my Mylen in the kennels or at exercise. I will train you as well she is. You have been cursed with a dark taint, but I will teach you to have pride in the service you give the Empire." All those Tuon trained eventually served with pride and joy. These three would be no different.

"I didn't bring these three out of Ebou Dar so you could take them back," Toy declared, sliding along the bed to get out from under the table. Tuon, impatient with his interruptions, reached through Tessie to hold him still, but the weaves vanished when they touched him.

"How did you…do that, Toy? The weave…melted…when it touched you," she demanded.

"It's a gift, Precious," he replied smugly. He stood, and Selucia stepped in front of him, ready to act. Her face showed her fear.

"You must not," Selucia began, in warning.

"No!" Selucia backed away immediately at Tuon's sharp command. Tuon didn't believe Toy would actually harm her, and she would prefer that no one learn that Selucia was her bodyguard. Besides, she was just a little bit curious as to what he was going to do. "They have annoyed me, Toy." She hoped that did not sound like a petulant child complaining to its mother.

Toy placed his hands on Tessie's collar as he replied, "They annoy me, too." He removed the collar deftly—he must have practiced at some point. The woman immediately began kissing his hand and thanking him, making Toy clearly uncomfortable.

"You're welcome, but there's no need for…Would you stop that? Teslyn?" He fairly jerked his hands away and turned to Joline.

"I want them to stop annoying me, Toy." Her tone made it clear that she expected him to make sure they did.

"I think they'll agree to that after this," he answered dryly. Joline glared at him, so he asked, "You will agree, won't you?"

"I do agree," Tessie spoke quickly. "We do all agree."

"Yes, we all agree," Edesina added.

Joline simply stared at Toy, and he sighed. "I could let Precious keep you for a few days, until you change your mind." Despite his words, he opened the collar. "But I won't."

She touched her throat and asked, "Would you like to be one of my Warders?" At the disgusted and slightly apprehensive look on Toy's face, she laughed a little. "No need to look like that. Even if I would bond you against your will, I couldn't so long as you have that _ter'angreal_. I agree, Master Cauthon. It may cost us out best chance to stop the Seanchan, but I will no longer bother…Precious."

Tuon hissed at the name. Toy was allowed to call her that because it was part of the game, but this woman made it mocking and childish. Even right after giving her a lesson that ought to have at least humbled her a little, Joline was still condescending and confident. Tuon was looking forward to the day when she finally could collar the woman and train her in earnest.

The women left after that, and Toy followed with the _a'dams_ in hand, muttering about burying them. Despite being thwarted—and that had been a surprise—Tuon was impressed with his actions. He showed neither fear nor hesitation in stepping into the middle of the dispute and settling it his way, the more fool he. The strange thing was that it did turn out his way, after all. Tuon was beginning to wonder how many more surprises the man had waiting for her. She was most anxious to find out.


	9. Walking Dead

_AN: Sorry for the wait. I thought I was going to extend this chapter, but it didn't happen. I really need to rope in my muses. Much thanks to my reviewers, and even those readers who don't review. Just knowing you're there keeps me at this. Let's call the next chapter a christmas present.  
_

_Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. Plot and dialogue come from Knife of Dreams 246-56 of the hardcover edition._

* * *

She had hardly forgotten the previous night's incident when she mounted Akein the next morning, but she allowed Toy to ride beside her in spite of it. Perhaps she permitted it _because_ of the previous night. Somehow, Toy had gained from what should have been a sure move in their game. She needed to know more about him if she was going to prevent a similar occurrence in the future.

Toy glared suspiciously at the ravens flying overhead, and breathed a sigh of relief when they were out of sight. Tuon couldn't imagine why, so she asked him, "Did you see some omen in them, Toy? Most omens I know concerning ravens specifically have to do with them perching on someone's rooftop or cawing at dawn or dusk."

"They can be spies for the Dark One," he told her, sounding serious. "Sometimes. Crows, too. And rats. But they didn't stop to look at us, so we don't need to worry."

Tuon ran a hand over her head in a habitual calming motion—not so calming these days, with her hair growing in. It only served at a reminder of her situation, now. "Toy, Toy. How many children's tales do you believe? Do you believe that if you sleep on Old Hob's Hill under a full moon, the snakes will give you true answers to three questions, or that foxes steal people's skins and take nourishment from food so you can starve to death while eating your fill?"

His smile was strained. "I don't think I've ever heard either one of those." After that he seemed lost in his own thoughts, and they didn't appear to give him any pleasure.

She managed to recapture his attention after a time, and retain it thereafter. He juggled for her, proudly making circles and figure eights with his six colored balls. She clapped at that, glad that at least he was entertaining. If she was mistaken about everything, she could at least make him _da'covale_ and let him keep her amused.

He told jokes, too. Some were very good, but she didn't understand others. What was funny about a serving maid losing a shoe? After that one, he switched to talking of horses. Then they had a pleasant debate about training methods. She was pleased to find that he knew what he was talking about, although she was certain he made up some of the tricks he mentioned.

Toy stopped talking as they approached a village around noon. It was bustling, with children and people everywhere. Master Luca, doubtless seeing a chance for several days of profits, shouted for the wagons to turn into a clearing nearby. They started to follow, when suddenly Toy froze and turned back towards the village.

"Keep going, man!" he shouted towards the peddler who was just stopping. "As fast as you can! Keep going!"

The peddler glances his way and then dismissed the shout. He hopped up on his seat and began proclaiming his news. Tuon wondered what Toy thought he was doing, telling a peddler to abandon his trade.

"Keep going!" Toy shouted again. "They're dead! Keep going!" At that, Tuon gasped. Not because she was afraid, but because she knew the Prophecies. The walking dead were one of the signs of the Last Battle approaching. It was not something she even wanted to admit was true. She hoped it wasn't, and that Toy was just playing tricks. If he was, she would find some way to make him pay.

Then the peddler's horses screamed in terror. That set off every horse in the show, and then all the other animals. Some were having trouble with their horses, but Tuon had no trouble. She noticed that Toy kept his gelding under control as well. Then Toy looked back towards the peddler, and Tuon's gaze followed.

The man had jumped down to check on his horses. He looked down and started screaming. He was sinking into the road, along with the village, but he was the only one who seemed to notice. The people in the village just went on with their lives as if they weren't melting away. Tuon felt a cold shaft of fear down her spine. This was no trick, and it was very ill indeed.

Toy kneed his gelding, and Tuon reacted instinctively. She grabbed his coat and saw Selucia grab his other side. "What do you think you can do?" she demanded.

A look of sorrowful resignation came over his face as he replied, "Nothing." Even so, he did not look away until only the man's hat was left on the road and the screams died away. The village was gone, leaving a cheerful meadow in its place.

As they turned back, the three _marath'damane_ hurried past to the spot where the man had been. Tessie briefly studied the man's hat before leaving it and entering the meadow with the other two. They talked and peered here and there as if they saw villages disappearing every day. Tuon wondered if they would learn anything useful.

The people of the show were understandably less composed. As soon as the initial panic had passed, they began arguing about the route they should take. Most didn't want to pass through where the village had been, and all were shouting their opinions as loudly as possible.

Toy remained quiet throughout the pandemonium. Those Tuon had come to think of as his joined him one by one. Merrilin murmured, "I think we may be going on alone from here."

"If we must." Toy did not look like the notion pleased him. Tuon wondered why it mattered whether they ended up in a particular place.

Master Luca began walking among the show-folk, gesturing and orating for all he was worth. He described the hardships of country roads, the disinterest they would find if they retraced their route, the grandness of the cities they would visit if they continued. Tuon listened curiously as he made people see the grandeur of Lugard and Caemlyn.

"I would like to see these cities," Tuon informed Toy. "Will you show them to me, Toy?"

He answered almost absently, "Lugard, maybe. From there I can find a way to send you back to Ebou Dar. Maybe Caemlyn."

"We shall see what we shall see." Tuon glanced at Selucia. AND MAYBE I WILL SHOW HIM SEANDAR. DO YOU THINK HE WOULD ENJOY A REAL CITY?

Selucia's mouth twitched only briefly, but her amusement was plain. I DO NOT THINK HE WOULD LIKE IT AS MUCH AS YOU WOULD.

"Luca's as good as a gleeman, Thom, but I don't think he's going to sway them," Toy remarked.

Merrilin snorted. "He's not bad, I'll grant him that, but he's no gleeman. Still, he's caught them, I'd say. A wager on it, my boy? Say one gold crown?"

Toy laughed at that, an honest laugh with barely a trace of hysteria in it. "You want to wager with _me_? Very well. Done." Tuon recalled that Toy had claimed he was a gambler.

"I wouldn't play at dice with you, but I know a man turning a crowd's heads with words when I see it. I've done it myself."

Tuon considered his words as she looked back at Luca. Surveying the people listening raptly, she thought Merrilin was right. They were nearly convinced, and Luca was just beginning to describe Tar Valon, a place even Tuon had heard stories about. And when the vote was called, every hand was for continuing on.

Toy produced a coin and handed it to Merrilin. "I never enjoyed losing more, Thom."

"I think I'll keep this as a memento. To remind me that even the luckiest man in the world can lose." He rolled the coin over the back of his hand before tucking it away. Tuon wondered whether his words were meant as a general statement or he actually believed Toy was the luckiest man in the world. She wondered if Toy believed he was.

Despite the unanimous agreement, people were still reluctant to cross the stretch of road where the village had been. At last, Luca steeled his nerve and led the way at a gallop. Toy followed at a walk, but Tuon wondered how much effort he put into appearing calm. Composure was a good ability to have if you were a leader.

"I will see Tar Valon one day," Tuon remarked. "I shall probably make it my capital. I shall have you show me the city, Toy. You _have_ been there?" His slight wince almost made her smile.

They continued on until sunset without talking much. The mood was subdued and anxious, and Tuon kept an eye out for omens. At last Luca chose a field and they made camp. When Toy followed her to her wagon, she rebuked him, "This is a night for prayer. Do you know nothing, Toy? The dead walking is a sign that Tarmon Gai'don is near." Thankfully, he did not press the matter and left with a courteous bow.


	10. A Low Place

_AN: I procrastinated like crazy on starting this. You can see why I rarely post chaptered fics. In any event, I'd like to send out a general thanks to all my reviewers. You guys keep me at it._

_It's extra long this time. Merry Christmas. I _might_ get the next chapter out before the end of January, since I should have some free time on my hands. We'll see. Otherwise it'll be a reverse birthday present._

_WARNING: Rating is a little higher for this chapter because of a word used in the book. Also, SPOILER ALERT if you haven't read this far in KOD. _

_By the way, ALL CAPS is handtalk between Tuon and Selucia._

_Disclaimer: insert standard disclaimer here_

* * *

**A Low Place**

Tuon spent that night in contemplation more than in prayer. She did begin with an appeal to the Light. If Tarmon Gai'don was really approaching, as it seemed to be, then her empire would need all the help it could get.

However, she never had been one to sit and hope things worked themselves out. Nor could she worry about the hazy future when she had her own situation to manage. She couldn't suppress the feeling that things were rapidly tumbling out of her control.

Thinking back over the day, she found herself wondering how Toy had known the village was dead. She herself hadn't noticed anything wrong until after Toy pointed it out. How could Tylin's Toy have noticed something she had not? It was simply beyond comprehension.

Since she could not understand it, she brushed the enigma aside and focused on what she could do with what she already knew.

She needed to do something about finding the Dragon Reborn, so she could bring him before the Empress, may she live forever. Granted, it didn't seem likely that he would just amble into the show and ask to see the Empress, but once she was back in the Tarasin Palace she _could_ do something. How could she draw him to her without getting her army slaughtered?

Though that was important, it was not the only thing that must be done. It would be advantageous to complete the Return before Tarmon Gai'don. Trying to fight a war on too many fronts could only end in disaster.

Of more immediate concern was resolving this current situation. She truly believed Toy would send her back. She thought she could trust his word and he seemed to intend to keep it. Before then, she needed to figure out if he _was_ the one. If he was, why? What made him so special? And if not…where was this mysterious man she was destined to marry?

It was time to move things along. She needed to _know_. And she needed to win this game with no rules.

…...

She opted to keep Toy off-balance the next morning. She began by allowing him to ride beside her, and then refusing to speak. She refused to even smile at his jokes and his juggling, and wondered how he could be so light-hearted after the day before. After all, they had received evidence that the Last Battle was approaching. Add to that, a man had melted before their eyes. Surely Toy should be uneasy, at the very least. But he babbled as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred to give him unpleasant dreams, despite the obvious anxiety displayed by the show-folk.

She found herself becoming unaccountably angry with him due to his attitude. Was he so involved in his own pleasures, his own schemes, that he failed to notice the world around him? Must he really court her so obviously, with such poor sense of timing? Or did he simply not care that she had to bring the Dragon Reborn in front of the Crystal Throne before Tarmon Gai'don? She had more important things to worry about than how many balls he could keep in the air. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter whether she loved or even liked the man she would marry. She just wanted to get this over with so she could do what she had to for the glory of the Empire.

Still…if she was going to remain here, riding her mare until she reached some unknown destination, she should make use of her time. There were things she wanted to learn, while she had the opportunity.

This was a good time to learn about the people she was going to rule for the Empress, may she live forever. Not just to learn, as Setalle Anan could tell her, but to experience. To observe, with her own eyes and ears, and make conjectures based on those observations.

Glancing at Toy, she wondered if she would ever be able to figure out the customs of these people. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he did something to surprise her.

……

They stopped at a town called Maderin around midmorning. Strange occurrences or not, nothing was going to stop Valan Luca from earning a little money. As the showfolk set about preparing for a performance, Tuon handed over her mare and entered her wagon.

Setalle Anan joined her, and they settled to a lively discussion of cultural practices on this side of the Aryth Ocean. When they came to an impasse in their debate, Tuon asked about Setalle's experience as an innkeeper.

"How is an inn different from a tavern?"

"An inn offers rooms to let. A tavern is basically just a common room."

"What is the common room for?"

"Food, drink, business, and games. I would serve a good meal, better than some get at home. And of course, inns and taverns offer many drinks. Wine is considered more the noble's drink, but the common folk drink ale."

"Are there a lot of fights in your inn?"

"Of course not! Whenever a fight started, I removed the perpetrators right away. They can take it outside, but a fight inside my common room chases off other customers. But I run a respectable inn, you know. Not a low place, a 'hell.' I cater to the higher end, merchants and nobles, not scoundrels and cut-throats. Not many scoundrels, anyway. Mat was a special case."

A glimmer of an idea was forming in the back of her mind. Tuon sent Selucia to fetch Toy while she quizzed Setalle. The _da'covale_ had barely left when Setalle shook her head.

"He won't be eager to take you, you know. He's a good man, or as good as most men are, but he's still got some funny notions."

Tuon smiled a little. "Let me worry about that. Or do you think he has no experience with hells?"

"Oh, I'm sure he has. He's the sort who thrives on excitement. He likes to gamble, our Mat, and hells are good places to find a game. I just don't think he'll be willing to take _you_ to one."

"I think you'll find that he'll do it in the end, anyway."

The door opened and Toy entered, looking none-too-pleased at being summoned. At least he had come. They had come a long way from the captor-prisoner relationship with which they had started this journey.

"I wish to visit the common room of an inn," Tuon told him without delay. She made it a demand and not a request. "Or a tavern. I have never seen the inside of either. You will take me to one in this town, Toy."

He seemed to sigh in relief. "That's easy enough. Just as soon as Thom or Juilin let me know it's safe."

He had agreed to the first part easily enough, so she added the second. "It must be a low place. What is called a hell."

She kept her amusement to herself as his mouth dropped open in shock. Tuon wondered whether it was because she wanted to visit such a place or because she knew what one was. Surely she had proved to him already that she was no fragile doll, to sit on a shelf? She broke horses and handled her own assassins, after all. She would like to see Toy manage as much.

Toy turned accusingly to Setalle. "Did you plant this fool notion in her head?"

"Why, what in the Light makes you think that?" Setalle inquired innocently. She hadn't, really. Even if she had, Tuon was perfectly capable of accepting or discarding the notion on her own.

Toy turned back to her and said severely, "It's out of the question, Precious. I walk into a hell with a woman like you, and I'll be in six knife fights inside the hour, if I survive that long."

The back-handed compliment made Tuon smile. As well as the opportunity to see a knife fight. The sort of fights she was used to did not involve knives. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so for a fact."

She waited for the delight he provoked to fade before reminding him, "Even so, Toy, you promised."

He sputtered in indignation for a moment. "I did not! I never agreed to take you to such a place."

"But you agreed to take me to an inn," she pointed out.

"I said it would be easy, but I certainly didn't agree to take you," Toy retorted edgily.

"The agreement was implied, Toy," she informed him. "I wish to see a hell."

"Absolutely not!" he shot back.

"Shouting won't make you right, you know. You did agree, and that is all there is to the matter," she replied equably.

He was sputtering some more, plainly casting about for some valid argument, when someone knocked at the door. Tuon paused for a moment before needling Toy with a reminder of good manners. "You see, Toy, that is how it is done. You knock and then wait."

Over her shoulder, she gestured to Selucia. ALLOW ENTRY.

Her maid straightened and called, "You may enter the presence." She acted just as if this were the receiving room of a palace and not a cramped wagon. That was well. It was Tuon's presence that mattered, not her surroundings.

Merrilin entered and bowed to her politely. Now there was a man who knew how to mind his manners. Even if he didn't necessarily mean them, he still did all the right things.

"My Lady," he greeted her before turning to Toy. "Harnan said he saw you strolling this way. I trust I'm not interrupting? I heard…voices."

Toy scowled at the deliberate pause. "You're not interrupting. What did you find out?"

"That there may be Seanchan in the town from time to time. No soldiers, but it seems they're building two farm villages a few miles to the north of the road and three more a few miles south. The villagers come to town to buy things now and then."

Toy was not quite able to smother his triumph as he said to her, "I'm afraid there's no jaunt into Maderin for you, Precious. Too dangerous."

Tuon folded her arms to let him know how she disdained his logic. "Farmers, Toy. No farmer has ever seen my face. You promised me a tavern or a common room, and you won't escape on this puny excuse."

"A common room should present no difficulties," Merrilin said before Toy could protest. "It's a pair of scissors or a new pot these farmers are after, not drink. They make their own ale, it seems, and don't much like the local brew."

Toy was not one to give in gracefully. "Thank you, Thom. She wants to see a hell."

Merrilin covered a laugh with a cough and knuckled his mustaches, but Tuon didn't care what he thought. He wasn't the one she needed to convince. "A hell," he repeated.

"A hell. Do _you_ know a hell in this town where I might take her without starting a riot?"

Merrilin nodded after a moment. "I might just know a place at that," he admitted, speaking at a pace that was almost understandable. "The White Ring. I intend to go there anyway, to see what news I can pick up."

Toy blinked and appeared to consider before asking, "Should I get Harnan and the others?"

"Oh, I think you and I should be protection enough for the Lady," Merrilin said with a smile. That seemed to alleviate Toy's uneasiness.

He sighed. "Very well."

Tuon did not smile in her victory. Instead, she simply turned to Setalle. "Did you want to come along, Mistress Anan?" she asked graciously.

That seemed to amuse the woman. "Not this time. I've seen quite enough hells to last a lifetime."

"You'll need to keep your hood up, Precious," Toy added as Tuon and Selucia began preparing for their outing. "There's no telling how many farmers might have seen you without you knowing."

Tuon was becoming exasperated with his caution. "Toy, I have met many farmers while visiting the country, but they very properly kept their eyes on the ground even if I allowed them to stand. Believe me, they never saw my face." He seemed a bit taken aback at that, for he had no reply.

Toy took her hand and placed it on his wrist. Tuon considered the gesture, and decided the escort was not inadvisable. He was doing what she wanted, after all, and it would be wise to let him have his way a little.

The walk to town was not long. It took longer to get out of the busy show than to actually cross the distance to the gate. The guards there let them in without any of the respectable behavior to which Tuon was accustomed. Eyeing their ragged line and poor postures, she supposed she should be surprised that they even managed to put their boots on the right feet. Whoever trained these men obviously cared nothing for discipline.

For some reason, Thom Merrilin stopped to talk with the head of the guards, so Toy halted them as well.

"A heavy guard, Captain. Are there brigands in the area?"

"No outlaws around here," replied an older guard. "The Seanchan cleaned out the few we hadn't caught. Move along, now, old fellow. You're blocking the way." This was obviously a falsehood. Tuon wondered why the man was so bothered by the question.

"The Seanchan said we didn't set enough guards," a younger fellow spoke up, "and Lord Nathin listens close when the Seanchan talk." Tuon would have nodded at that, if she weren't listening so closely to the conversation. It was well that these people learned to serve and obey.

The older guard struck the speaker on the back of the head, making him stagger. "You watch your mouth with people from off, Keilar, else you'll be back behind a plow before you can blink. My Lord," he called toward Toy, "you want to call your servant before he gets himself in trouble."

"My apologies, Captain," Merrilin said quickly. He did a very good impression of a humble servant properly chided. Once again, Tuon made note of the man's exquisite acting ability. This man was far more than he appeared. Come to think of it, what was he claiming to be? A gleeman? That couldn't be right. "No offense meant. My apologies."

As soon as Merrilin reached the three of them, Toy rebuked him, "He would have thumped you, too, if I hadn't been here. He almost did, anyway. And what did you learn that was worth risking that?" Interesting that Toy understood that, despite his denial of nobility.

"I wouldn't have asked without you, in that coat," Merrilin replied cheerfully as he led the way into town. "The first lesson is what questions to ask. The second, and just as important, is when and how to ask. I learned there aren't any brigands, which is always good to know, though I've heard of very few bands big enough to attack something as large as the show. I learned Nathin is under the Seanchan thumb. Either he's obeying a command with those extra guards, or he takes their suggestions as commands. And more important, I learned that Nathin's armsmen don't resent the Seanchan."

While Toy expressed disbelief, Tuon marveled at how much this man gleaned from a few casual sentences. He was obviously a very good spy. She almost wished he could be one of her Listeners.

"They didn't spit when they said his name, Mat. They didn't grimace or growl. They won't fight the Seanchan, not unless Nathin tells them to, and he won't." He sighed. "It's very strange. I've found the same everywhere from Ebou Dar to here. These outlanders come, take charge, impose their laws, snatch up women who can channel, and if the nobles resent them, very few among the common people seem to. Unless they've had a wife or relation collared, anyway. Very strange, and it bodes ill for getting them out again. But then, Altara is Altara. I'll wager they're finding a colder reception in Amadicia and Tarabon. We'd best hope they are, else…" He trailed off, but he didn't not need to speak his thought aloud for Tuon to follow it.

She found it very strange that these people were so adamant about resisting Seanchan rule. They were the rightful rulers, after all, returning after a thousand years. Everything had been theirs once, and would be again. But they were not cruel masters. Why should the common people complain? Life under the Empire was fair. Everybody might have to work, but everybody also ate and slept under a sturdy roof. Once a place had been pacified, most of the common folk didn't even need to worry about being assaulted in some way. The army was disciplined and skilled. Crime was negligible, since criminals were quickly apprehended and sold as property. Sometimes it took communities a little while to adjust to the idea of selling people, but it was no different than the current local institution of servitude. As for _marath'damane_, well, they would eventually see why it was necessary. It was always hard to realize that a loved one was not what you thought, but most soon came to realize that it was better this way. Left alone, many _marath'damane_ would die, anyway.

It must just be stubbornness, she supposed. These people were used to living life one way, and were opposed to the idea of the Return. They simply needed to be brought to understand that life wouldn't change much, except for the better.

There wasn't much she could do about that, now, so Tuon redirected her attention to her surroundings. The three and four story buildings were nothing like what was in Seanchan, and they were even different from the buildings in Ebou Dar. However, that was not what caught her interest. What she noticed were the people. Never before had she walked a town without all the people stopping to kneel and hide their faces. Usually she didn't walk through towns at all. So this was a new experience. Men and women hurried by without taking any apparent notice of her at all. She wasn't sure she liked the feeling of being ignored.

She saw children dashing about playing some game, and wondered what the rules were. The only game she had played as a child was Stones. _Daes Dae'mar_ didn't count. She pondered the ridiculous statement that a man could sharpen knives to cut wishes, wondering who would believe such a tale. A woman with two swords on her back caught her eye and was dismissed. When she saw the woman in the sheer red dress, she paused to wonder how she would look in such a garment but she hardly thought it was decent on anything but _da'covale_. She saw more vendors than she had ever seen in her life. She drank in every moment like a strange new wine. This experience was already liberating, and they had not even reached the hell yet.

Merrilin led them along alleys and narrow twisting streets. Tuon wondered how he knew where they were. Half the time she couldn't even see the sun in the constricted patch of visible sky. Whenever someone pushing a barrow or cart came along, Toy pushed her against the wall out of the way. She didn't really appreciate being manhandled like that. She was perfectly capable of getting herself out of the way. Then again, arguing at this point would serve no purpose.

Finally, they arrived at the White Ring. Tuon considered the sign—a lace ring—and decided it looked like a dubious place. Toy checking his knives so obviously only confirmed it.

"Ah, yes. A wise precaution," Merrilin muttered. He went through the ritual of checking his own knives. Idly, Tuon wondered how many weapons the two men had between them.

She was not the only one to notice their behavior. Selucia was not quite so fond of this adventure as her mistress. MY LADY, IF THIS PLACE IS REALLY SO DANGEROUS, PERHAPS WE OUGHT NOT ENTER.

Tuon replied without hesitation. DON'T BE SILLY. WE HAVE COME THIS FAR. I WISH TO SEE THIS PLACE.

I AM IN CHARGE OF YOUR SAFETY. I DO NOT LIKE THIS PLACE.

I THINK IT LOOKS EXCITING. BESIDES, TOY WILL NOT LET ANY HARM COME TO ME.

HE DID NOT WISH TO BRING YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE. PERHAPS IT WAS BECAUSE HE KNEW HE COULD NOT KEEP YOU SAFE.

ENOUGH. I WISH TO ENTER AND THAT IS THAT. IT WILL BE WELL.

Selucia surrendered with ill grace, lowering her eyes. It was not really her place to argue with Tuon, even over the latter's safety. To let her know there were no hard feelings, and to reassure her as hand-talk had not, Tuon said, "It will be well. You will see. It will be well."

Toy seemed to take some heart from her words as well. He offered her his wrist again and led her inside. Within was a paneled room with many small tables. A woman was singing near the fireplace, and there were perhaps twenty or thirty men and women seated about the room. As eager as Tuon was to see a common room, it did not look like the sort of place where fights were likely to happen. Where were the stains, the rickety furniture, the patched or ragged clothes? This was not at all what she was expecting from a low place.

"Are you certain this is a hell, Master Merrilin?" she asked softly.

"I assure you, you won't find a bigger collection of thieves and rascals anywhere in Maderin at this hour," Merrilin answered in a muffled voice.

Tuon noted his choice of wording but did not dispute it. She walked over to view the singer, who sang in a coarse voice. Tuon would never consider buying a _da'covale_ with such a poor sense of pitch and rhythm. Either the patrons did not care how badly she sang, or they were more interested in the woman's state of undress. Tuon listened closely to the words—the normally fast speech these people affected was further mangled by putting words to a melody—and managed not to react when she realized it was about a girl with far too many lovers. In comparison with the object of her song, the singer seemed almost a proper, respectable woman.

Satisfied that at the very least the inn was a little bit disreputable, Tuon returned to Toy and Merrilin. "I expected rougher garb on the patrons, and perhaps a fight or two, but the song is too salacious for a respectable inn. Though she is much too covered to sing it properly, in my opinion. What is that for?" she demanded when Toy handed a coin to Merrilin.

"Oh, I thought you might be disappointed that only the more successful blackguards were present—they aren't always so colorful as the poorer sort—but Mat said you'd never notice," Merrilin said off-handedly as he tucked the coin away.

Tuon glared at Toy, who seemed about to speak and thought better of it. He glanced away and watched the innkeeper, a round woman in a gray dress, approach. Merrilin slipped away with a murmured, "By your leave, my Lord, my Lady."

The woman curtsied deeply and asked what they wished. Toy asked for wine, but Tuon meant to make the most of this experience. She over-rode his order calmly. "Ale. I've never tasted ale. Tell me, good mistress, is it likely any of these people will start a fight any time soon?"

The woman seemed taken aback at the question. Misinterpreting the motive behind the question, she assured Tuon, "No need to worry, my Lady. It happens from time to time, if they get too far in their cups, but I'll settle them down hard if it does."

"Not on my account," Tuon replied magnanimously. "They should have their sport."

The woman seemed uncomfortable with Tuon's statement, and barely curtsied before hurrying away and called for the serving girl to bring wine and ale.

"You mustn't ask questions like that, Precious," Toy told her quietly as he led her to a table. Selucia took Tuon's cloak and held her chair for her before taking her place at her mistress' shoulder. Tuon hardly noticed as she listened to Toy's explanation. "It isn't polite. Besides, it lowers your eyes."

Tuon nodded to herself. "Your customs are often very peculiar, Toy. You will have to teach me about them. I have learned some, but I must know the customs of the people I will rule in the name of the Empress, may she live forever."

"I'll be glad to teach you what I can," Toy said as he shed his cloak. "It will be good for you to know our ways even if you end up ruling a sight less than you expect to." He set his hat on the table, making both Tuon and Selucia jump. Tuon hurriedly relocated it to an open chair.

"That is _very_ bad luck, Toy. _Never_ put a hat on a table." She made the sign to ward off evil, just in case she had not removed it quick enough. What was the man thinking?

"I'll remember that," he said, as if he did not believe her. As if he did not appreciate her attempts to educate him. And why didn't he? She was willing to learn from him, so why should he not learn from her? Someday he would belong to the Empire, so he ought to know their customs, just as Tuon ought to know his.

"I have decided you will not do for a cupbearer, Toy. Not until you learn meekness, which I almost despair of teaching you. Perhaps I will make you a running groom, instead. You are good with horses. Would you like trotting at my stirrup when I ride? The robes are much the same as for a cupbearer, but I will have yours decorated with ribbons." Remembering something she had heard in the palace in Ebou Dar, she added, "Pink ribbons." He colored most satisfactorily at that addition. Making him a running groom was not a bad idea, actually. The only talent she had seen from him thus far pertained to horses, and she would have to make use of him somehow if this all fell through.

The serving woman arrived with their drinks just then. Toy avoided looking at her and didn't even reply to the smile she gave him when he paid her. She had never seen him with such a blank expression. After the woman left, Tuon chided him, "You could have smiled back at her, Toy. She is very pretty. You were so stone-faced, you probably frightened her." Cautiously, she sipped her ale. To her surprise, it tasted good. It was not quite like wine—both the flavor and the texture were different—but it was palatable. "This is actually quite good."

Toy sighed and sipped his own drink. Returning to the previous conversation, Tuon asked, "Tell me about your customs, Toy. How must one behave in a hell?"

Toy's mouth twitched. "That's easy. Keep to yourself, ask no questions. Sit with your back to a wall and near a door in case you need to leave suddenly. Know at least two ways out of the room. If a fight starts, get out of the way or you're likely to get caught up in it. Better not to go at all, of course, but if you have to, it's best to be polite to everybody. People have short tempers in such places."

That was simple enough to remember, even if Tuon was not likely to need the knowledge again. "And how does that differ from a respectable inn?" she inquired as she sipped her drink. Her mug had been filled very full, and it was taking her awhile to drink it.

"Well, fights are less likely, for one thing. Some questions are alright, but too many will arouse suspicion. It's still a good idea to know several ways out. Be polite to the bouncer, the serving maids, and the innkeeper."

"What about courts or palaces? How would you behave before a king?"

"Well, I've not seen many kings. In Tear it's a good idea to step lightly around the High Lords." Tuon sniffed at the audacity they had to call themselves High Lords, but Toy continued on without appearing to notice. "They're very hung up on their own rank, there. The Stone of Tear is a big place, and the High Lords aren't too keen on visitors. The Court in Caemlyn is a bit less elaborate. It's not quite as hard to get an audience with the queen, or it wasn't when I was there. Oh, and in Shienar everybody is very polite. They're a hard people, but honor is very important to them. I'm afraid I haven't much experience with any other courts."

"So you have traveled widely, and been in other palaces than the Tarasin." She finished her ale before she continued. "But you are not nobly born, it seems. I thought you must not be." The question then became how he had come to be treated as a noble, with retainers and silk coats? Had he done something to earn his rank, as some commoners were raised to the Blood in Seanchan?

"That I am not," he said quickly. "Nobles…" He opted not to finish that sentence, but he hardly needed to. For a man who spent time with nobles—who dallied with a queen!—he was rather averse towards them. Studying him, with his silk coat and confident demeanor, she thought he might even look at home in the palace in Seandar, once he shaved his head. In any event, the conversation seemed to be over. That was fine. There were two things Tuon still wished to see, here, and she had a feeling Toy would refuse point-blank if she told him to start a fight.

ORDER ME ANOTHER ALE, she ordered over her shoulder. Selucia obeyed by clapping her hands to summon the serving girl.

"You called yourself a gambler, and Master Merrilin named you the luckiest man in the world," Tuon remarked as the serving girl came running. She had taken Selucia's order and run off before Toy replied.

"I have luck sometimes."

"Let's see whether you have any today, Toy." Tuon glanced toward the table where a dice game was in progress. Toy took the hint and stood to offer her his arm. She took it and let him lead her over to the game.

"May a stranger join your game, my good fellows?" Toy asked jovially. Three of the men reacted negatively, but the woman replied with an affirmative. By the slur in her words, Tuon guessed that the woman might be drunk.

Toy and Tuon seated themselves and watched the game for a round or two. Tuon did not really understand the rules, but Toy seemed to grasp them quickly. He laid a silver coin on the table as his wager and rolled the dice. Four fives came up.

"Is that a winning toss?" Tuon inquired. Four fives seemed like they would be good.

"Not unless I match it," Toy replied evenly as he scooped the dice up again, "without tossing a fourteen or the Dark One's Eyes first." He shook the cup and rolled them again to show four fives. Perhaps he really was as lucky as he claimed, to get a match on the first try.

The older fellow at the table stood up suddenly. "I've had enough," he announced, and began gathering his winnings.

"You're _leaving_, Vane? _Now_?" one man demanded. Perhaps there was more going on here than just a dice game.

"I've had enough, Camrin," Vane growled, and stamped his way to the exit.

The woman leaned over to pat the third man's wrist. "Just means I'll buy my lacquerware from you, Master Kostelle. You and Master Camrin."

Kostelle chuckled, not at all put out by Vane's departure. "So it does, Mistress Alstaing. So it does. Doesn't it, Camrin?" Tuon wondered what that was about, before she remembered Mistress Anan's mention of business. Perhaps this was what she meant.

"I suppose. I suppose." He matched Toy's wager again, and Toy spun the dice. Tuon felt some disappointment on seeing a fourteen. Perhaps Toy was not as lucky as he claimed, after all.

"Oh. You lost."

"I won, Precious. That's a winning toss if it's your first. Another?"

The next roll totaled fourteen as well, as did the next and the one after that. Over and over he rolled fourteen, never the same combination twice. Tuon could not imagine how he was doing it. Neither could anybody else, if the number of spectators was any indication. Toy grinned at her once, a smile of pure pleasure. She nodded back at him, giving him all the encouragement he needed. He certainly seemed to be in his element, here.

Suddenly, he froze. It was only an instant, but something had obviously made him uneasy. Tuon followed his gaze to Mistress Alstaing curiously, but saw nothing amiss. Even so, Toy announced, "One last toss, and I think I'll call it done. Mistress Heilin?" He handed the innkeeper a fistful of coins. "To celebrate my good fortune, serve everybody what they want to drink until those run out." This brought murmurs of appreciation from the onlookers. Tuon knew what he was doing. She had done similar things on a much grander scale. Make a gift to a group of people, make them beholden to you, and they were less likely to cause trouble. It was a wise move, and surprisingly cunning for the bumbling country boy he often seemed. She wondered if he realized it, or was just being generous.

"He can't keep this run going forever," Camrin muttered. "What say you, Kostelle? Halves?" He slid a gold coin across the table. "If there's only to be one more toss, let's make a real wager on it. Bad luck has to follow this much good." After a moment, Kostelle nodded and added his coin.

Toy sighed and shook the dice. He spun them out, watching with everyone else as they bounced off the coins and settled, all showing a single dot. The men laughed and divided their winnings while the onlookers drifted off. Tuon turned to Toy, to find him watching Mistress Alstaing again. She couldn't determine the reason, since the woman wasn't particularly pretty. After a moment, he recalled himself and stood to lead her back to their table.

"So your luck is not endless, Toy. Or is it that you are only lucky in small things?" she asked.

"Nobody has endless luck, Precious. Myself, I think that last toss was one of the luckiest I've ever made."

"Oh?"

"The Taraboner woman was not as drunk as she seemed. I don't think she was drunk at all. She was playing those fellows along, and she was suspicious of me. If I had won that toss, she might have made an accusation. That would have gotten every man there to pull out his knife and attack me. Losing right then made it clear that I wasn't cheating. How could I be, since I walked away with no more than I sat down with? It eased their suspicions. Buying drinks for everyone served the same purpose. Few men are generous with cheated coin." He pulled out the chair for her, but she didn't take it.

He was very experienced in these situations, she could see. But was it only experience, or something more? What was it about this man that put her on edge and eased her at the same time? As the silence dragged on, she said, "You may do very well in Seandar." She would look forward to it. Then she handed him her mug. "Guard this until I return."

He reacted badly at that. "Where are you going?"

Tuon only just managed not to sigh or stamp her foot. "If you must know, I am going to the necessary, Toy."

He had the decency to look shamefaced. "Oh. The innkeeper can tell you where it is. Or one of the serving women."

"Thank you, Toy. I'd never have thought to _ask_." As she walked away, she said to Selucia HE TRULY SEEMS TO BELIEVE I AM A CHILD. BUT THEN, HE PROBABLY WOULD NOT HAVE THE SENSE TO ASK, BEING A MAN.

The innkeeper was perfectly willing to tell a lady where the necessary was, but she rudely kept her gaze on Tuon's face when she did. And she added a comment about her handsome lord, and how _she_ wouldn't encourage him to risk all that money. But of course the lady knew what she was doing and did she need anything else? Tuon wondered where this sudden talkative mood had come from.

THE WOMAN TALKS ENTIRELY TOO MUCH, she told Selucia, BUT SHE WAS RIGHT ABOUT TOY. That made Selucia smile.

She took her time when she was done, adjusting her dress and considering the game she had seen. With the way Toy's eyes had lit up, she had been hard-pressed not to smile back at him. And the way he had dispelled tension she had not even noticed was nothing short of deft. If he applied that luck and ingenuity to important matters instead of dice games, he might actually make a respectable husband.

Eventually, they returned to the table. Toy rose immediately when he saw them, and gathered up Tuon's cloak. She noticed Merrilin had returned, and was standing as well. "We're leaving," Toy said as he attempted to drape her cloak about her. Selucia took it from him with a glare. Toy should know better than to preempt Selucia's prerogative.

"I haven't seen one fight yet," Tuon protested, garnering startled looks from the patrons.

"I'll explain outside," he insisted quietly. The tone of her voice suggested this was no whim. Something had happened. Or, since Merrilin was back, he had learned something important. Studying his face, she knew it did not matter which it was. He was not going to budge an inch on this. There was a strange look in his eyes, that she had seen only occasionally in those who wanted to protect her, not the least of which was Selucia. She could not argue with that. Not here, not now. Later, maybe, he would pay for his presumption.

She nodded her acquiescence. Selucia placed her mistress' cloak, and then donned her own. They left at a deceptively casual pace. As soon as they reached the street, Toy hurried them along, explaining as he walked. His eyes darted everywhere but to her, betraying his unease.

"The Seanchan are waiting for us on the border of Murandy. They're looking for an imposter of your description. They're out for blood. They'll kill you if they see you, and ask questions afterwards. We've got to find some horses and leave the show. I'm hoping Vanin knows a few discreet ways out of Altara that will let us avoid any trouble."

Tuon considered the information coolly. This was an obvious plot to remove her from the succession. How anyone had known where she was was immaterial. She immediately began considering who had concocted this scheme. Once she slipped through their net, she would have to pay them back. "It could be Ravashi or Chimal. My two nearest sisters in age. Aurana is too young, I think, only eight. Fourteen, you would say. Chimal is quiet in her ambition, but Ravashi always believed has always believed she should have been named just because she is older. She might well have sent someone to plant rumors should I disappear for a time. It is really clever of her. If she is the one." Toy seemed startled at her attitude, though she couldn't imagine why. She had _told_ him that her siblings had tried to kill her, and she them. This was hardly the first attempted assassination she had faced. At that, she had more warning than she usually did.

"This plot could be dealt with easily if the High Lady were in the Tarasin Palace where she belongs," Selucia remarked.

Tuon spun and berated her maid. DO YOU REALLY THINK SO? I WOULD BE EASY FOR ASSASSINS TO FIND THERE, WOULD I NOT? IT IS NOT HIS FAULT. I CHOSE TO GO WITH HIM. I BELIEVE IT IS IMPORTANT THAT I BE HERE. REMEMBER YOUR PLACE AND DO NOT QUESTION MY JUDGMENT!

Selucia went to her knees in submission. MY EYES ARE LOWERED.

Tuon dropped her hands and stared at her maid for a long moment. She told herself that Selucia was only looking out for her safety. It was not an intended insult. Once she had herself under control, she lifted the other woman to her feet. YOU ARE FORGIVEN.

FORGIVE ME FOR MY PRESUMPTION.

YOU ARE FORGIVEN Tuon said again, and smiled to let her know it was truly well.

"Will you tell me what _that_ was all about?" Toy demanded. Tuon turned to look at him, but decided to ignore his foolish question.

"What are your plans, Toy?"

"Not Ebou Dar, if that's what you're thinking, Precious. If one army is out to kill you, then they probably all are, and there are too many soldiers between here and Ebou Dar. But don't worry; I'll find some way to get you back safely."

"So you always…" she saw a flicker at the corner of her vision, and raised her gaze. Seven or eight men were coming around the corner with swords out. Her eyes widened, and Toy glanced over his shoulder to see what she was looking at. He spun and drew his knives, shouting, "Run, Tuon! Thom, get her away from here!" Even as Tuon moved to back away, he was throwing his knives. Two men dropped just like stones. Before they were down, Toy drew two more knives from his boots and dashed forward, towards danger.

It was fascinating to watch, but she supposed she really ought to move. Turning, she saw six more men coming at them from the other direction. Selucia and Merrilin were already moving to intercept them. Tuon turned so she could see both fights, and stayed in the middle. Otherwise both Toy and Selucia would lecture her later for risking her life unnecessarily. Besides, all three of them seemed fully capable of dispatching their attackers without her help.

Indeed they were. The fights ended at almost the same time. As the sixth man dropped on one end of the street, Toy faced his last opponent on the other. For some reason, he paused and said, "You can't hope to finish what the others failed in together. Run. I'll let you go unharmed." Tuon could not believe it. What was he _thinking_?

His foolish offer seemed to enrage the woman, for she rushed at him with a scream. Toy dodged backwards, unwilling to strike, and then he slipped. Almost without thinking, Tuon moved the last few paces and grabbed the woman's wrist. She twisted the woman's arm behind her back in a move she had practiced over and over again and then struck her throat. Tuon turned her attention to Toy as soon as the woman started choking.

"I told you to run," Toy said absently. He was swaying on his feet, his adrenaline obviously fading.

"You very nearly let her kill you, Toy. Why?" Tuon demanded.

"I promised myself I'd never kill another woman." After a moment, he remarked, "Looks like I've ruined this coat." Then he winced, appearing to notice his numerous cuts for the first time.

It was the strangest thing, Tuon thought. He fought without mercy or fear, outnumbered and against weapons with a longer reach, and then could not even raise his knives against a woman. It was a foolish, although endearing, disability. And then he made some light-hearted, insignificant comment as if he had not almost died! She wondered if she was going to have to watch him to make sure he didn't get himself killed.

Absently, she noted the conversation between Merrilin and Selucia. The old man had been surprisingly spry in the fight. And observant. Of course, it would have been hard for him to miss Selucia calmly disabling two men. He seemed willing to keep his mouth shut, though, so Tuon dismissed the matter. There were other things to worry about.

"This one can't live to be put to the question, and she can't talk if she somehow managed to," Tuon stated as she considered her victim. Indifferently expedient, and recognizing that Toy would not be able to do it, she took the woman's knife and stabbed her through the heart. The choked, rasping breathing cut off. "A mercy she did not deserve, but I see no point to needless suffering. I won, Toy."

"You won? What are you talking about?"

"You used my name before I used yours, so I won." The game had only lasted seven or eight days, and the outcome was not a surprise. Still, the fact that he had shouted her name under such stressful circumstances gave her a little tingling feeling. Just a little one, and she suppressed it quickly. Much better to be annoyed at his presumption—telling Merrilin to get her to safety—or his personality quirks.

Toy whistled softly and then went to retrieve his knives. He paused over one of the bodies, studying the face. Then he tucked the knife away as he stood. "Our plans have changed, Thom. We're leaving Maderin as fast as we can. Luca will want to be rid of us so much that he'll let us have all the horses we need."

"This must be reported, Toy," Tuon reminded him. Surely he knew this? "Failure to do so is as lawless as what they did."

"You know that fellow?" Merrilin inquired, as if Tuon had not spoken.

Toy nodded. "His name is Vane, and I don't think anybody in this town will believe a respectable merchant attacked us in the street. Luca will _give_ us horses to be rid of this." Surprised, Tuon glanced back at the dead man. It _was_ the merchant who had left when the game started. That was strange. She had always thought merchants were the type to hire killers, not lead them. Strange indeed.

Then Toy offered her his wrist again, and she decided merchants were not the strangest people here, after all.

* * *

_AN: And that's where I'm stopping, seeing as this chapter is already 8 times my usual length. Never fear, I intend to describe their escape just a little bit more than RJ did. I just have to stop somewhere and this is it._

_I think my interpretation of Tuon's character has changed since I started this story. And I've decided, since this _is_ fanfiction, I can make her personality what I want and stop worrying about RJ's interpretation. So, as we get into the chapters where I have more freedom, expect some deviation from the book (just a little) as I take it. _

_Also, I haven't decided yet what to do for the part that _is_ in her pov in the book. I was thinking I would just summarize it and give a few all-around thoughts. Any suggestions?_


	11. A Pleasant Ride

_AN: I waited way too long to actually work on this chapter. Then school got in the way. And this chapter did not want to be written. We argued. It wasn't pretty. So, the quality may not be the best. It's somewhat longer than average, though, so please don't throw things at me. As usual, I adore constructive feedback. Many thanks to everyone who reads, and especially those who review. I love watching my hit counter go up._

_The next chapter will be in Mat's pov. That should be fun. Hopefully I'll manage to post it by June._

_Disclaimer: It never was and never will be mine. All credit goes to Robert Jordan. Most of the dialogue and the plot come from Knife of Dreams 540-551._

* * *

**A Pleasant Ride**

They didn't exactly hurry back to the show, but they didn't dawdle, either. As soon as they arrived, Toy cornered Valan Luca and gave him a brief account of the situation. Luca started sweating immediately and promised to procure horses for them.

In the meantime, Toy found the rest of his people and started giving orders. "Pack everything you absolutely need and leave the rest. We're not taking the wagons, so make sure you really need it. We'll be leaving as soon as Luca gets horses for us."

The Redarms and the servants went to work without so much as an eye-blink, following orders like good soldiers. Juilin and Mistress Anan gave him doubtful looks but didn't argue. Aludra murmured a question about her supplies and received an answer that pleased her enough to send her to work. On the other hand, Leilwin, Domon, and the _marath'damane_ still believed they should be in charge and disliked taking orders from anyone. Toy sighed and told them _why_ they were in a hurry. Then he simply ignored the "advice" of the _marath'damane_ and ducked into his tent with his servants

After sending Selucia to begin packing, Tuon followed him without hesitation. If those wounds were not properly dealt with, he would slow them down as they traveled. He had stripped down to his smallclothes and both of his servants were applying sewing needles to his flesh. Their work was methodical and efficient, though not precisely gentle or careful.

The _marath'damane _were also present, creating an almost unbearable crowd in the modest tent. Each of them tried to offer their services for healing. The one that seemed to have two men devoted to her—Joline?—was the most insistent. Tuon's eyes narrowed. She did not trust that woman. She could not wait until she had that woman properly collared again.

Still, they had a point. After the woman threw up her hands in defeat, Tuon spoke up. "Don't be foolish, Toy. This Healing is a wonderful thing. My Mylen knows it, and I taught it to my others, too." She spared a brief thought for her _damane_, safely tame and so eager to please her, before continuing. "Of course, many people are foolish about having the Power touch them. Half my servants would faint at the suggestion, and most of the Blood, too. I shouldn't be surprised. But I wouldn't have expected it of you."

Even her dig at his pride was not enough to overcome his stubborn insistence on healing the hard way. Tuon glared at him, letting her disapproval radiate throughout the cramped little tent. She shooed the _marath'damame_ out impatiently, since they could do nothing, and watched as the two servants finished their work. She felt no sympathy when he winced or bit off a curse: it was his own fault. Toy pulled on fresh clothing—what he had been wearing would require so much work to be wearable that it wasn't worth saving—with only a hint of stiffness. Then he strode out of the tent with something resembling his usual vigor.

Tuon shook her head at his foolishness and walked out at a more sedate pace. She returned to her wagon—not hers anymore after today, not that she minded. Selucia was within, carefully folding or rolling all her fine silk dresses. At least all her silk fine cloth had been made into dresses already. They would not have access to skilled seamstresses for some time. Selucia paused in her packing to help Tuon into a dress suitable for riding long distances. The maid had already changed, though her own clothing would not suffer from riding. Despite their unprecedented situation, Selucia still remembered her duties and her sensible attitude. Not for the first time, Tuon was pleased that she had kept this woman in her service.

Once Tuon had changed, she went straight to the Lucas' huge wagon. She knocked and was invited in. Mistress Luca, the sole occupant, stood and curtseyed briefly to her as she entered. "To what do I owe this honor, High Lady?"

"I was wondering if you had a few things I might purchase," Tuon replied, glancing around the interior. "In particular, do you by any chance have medical supplies? Bandages, balms, ointments, herbs for fever, and such?"

"I believe I have, High Lady. Just you wait a moment."

Tuon watched closely as Mistress Luca gathered various jars and packets and placed them in a traveling bag. The woman suggested other things she thought Tuon might need—spices, handkerchiefs, and a sturdy knife, to start—and Tuon either assented or politely declined. In the end, everything made a sizable package. They settled on a price—respectful they may be, but the Lucas did nothing for free—and Tuon bid the woman a cordial goodbye. She was not unwilling to end their acquaintance.

Outside, she handed the pack to Selucia and went to Akein. She stroked the mare's neck as she waited for everything to be ready. She saw that Master Luca had returned, and wondered what they were going to do with three-score packhorses. Then she saw that the woman with all the braids was directing the Redarms as they loaded her things onto the beasts. Tuon frowned. Was all that truly necessary? What use would the woman have for her crude sky-lights when they were in the forest? And yet, Toy made no comment, though he had clearly seen what she was doing. The man was everywhere, chivvying people to move faster and glancing anxiously towards town.

At last, they were ready to leave. There was one last round of goodbyes before they mounted up and set off down the road. Each of the Redarms took one string of packhorses and Leilwin's husband Domon took the fourth. Tuon rode at the head of the procession with Toy and Selucia. She did not look back.

They followed the road until the last of the farms were behind them and the town was only a memory beyond the horizon. Then they left the road and took to the forest. Their progress would be much slower off the road—especially with so many pack-beasts—but there was less chance they would be found by men after their blood, either. Besides, what did they have to hurry for? Tuon didn't mind. Traveling off the road was like an adventure, and ever so much more interesting that parading through a city. Judging by the excited comments made by Olver as he bounced up and down in Wind's saddle, she was not the only one who thought so.

They stopped as soon as the light began to fail, and found a campsite. Someone had thoughtfully purchased a few extra tents, but quarters would still be tight. Fortunately, Tuon would not be expected to share with anyone but Selucia and Mistress Anan. After they ate, Toy somehow found time for one game of stones before Tuon shooed him out so she could sleep. Despite the circumstances, she found herself unaccountably pleased that Toy had not dropped their game. That didn't mean, of course, that she was going to let him continue to call her by his silly pet name. _That_ game had already ended.

The next morning, she occupied herself with questioning Toy as they rode. She tried quizzing him on the political situation—just to see if he knew anything she didn't, or had heard something from Master Merrilin—but he adamantly pretended ignorance. Instead, she asked about the foliage and wildlife around them. He was a better source of information here, but she had been raised in a palace and didn't really understand the difference between an oak and an elm.

Several of the men—most often Vanin, the Redarms, or the two men who looked to Joline—left the group from time to time and rode into the trees on either side of them. Occasionally, one returned to warn them about a nearby village or deliver the results of their hunting. She was pleased to see that most of them nodded respectfully to her when they came to report to Toy. Even if _his_ attitude was not yet satisfactory, his men knew how to treat her. She mused idly about that difference in character, and wondered—not for the first time—why these men followed a man like Toy. She could not understand what bound such a disparate group of people together.

She understood that they had escaped from Ebou Dar together, but _why_? For what reason had they all been included in Toy's plan? Why had he rescued the _marath'damane_? Why take the braided woman with the sky-lights? Why did the Redarms answer to Toy? Why was Leilwin with them? And what was the reason he had taken Tuon? Oh, she had an inkling—she knew her part of it, anyway—but she could not fathom the reason on his part. She wanted to know, to unveil the mystery, and someday, he _would_ tell her.

They stopped at midday to rest the horses and eat. Vanin had found them a pleasant clearing with a stream nearby. The servants set about digging a fire-pit and a refuse pit while the Redarms created seating arrangements with their hatchets. It wasn't exactly a fine dining hall, but it would do. Tuon thought the setting was rather quaint. It was certainly an experience she had not had before, and she had already decided to make the most of such things.

Her bird leg, when it was handed to her, was greasy and plain. There was a taste to it that reminded her of ashes, and she found herself hoping there would be some variety in their meals from now on. Still, she was hungry after riding all morning and she was too well-bred to make complaints when there was no other choice.

Toy finished his rabbit leg and discarded the bone. His servant swooped in to pick it up almost before it had touched the ground. Toy ignored the dour man, moving his hands towards his legs to wipe them off.

Tuon raised her eyebrows at him and freed one pf her hands. THOUGH WE ARE NOT IN A PALACE, ETIQUETTE IS STILL APPRECIATED. Selucia sniffed, conveying their disapproval clearly to Toy.

Toy met her gaze and insolently rubbed his hands on his breeches. Tuon's hands spoke again. IF HE THINKS HIS ARROGANCE WILL IMPRESS ME, HE WILL SOON FIND OTHERWISE. AS IT IS, I THINK I SHOULD GIVE HIM A BATH. PERHAPS WITH SCENTED OILS. Selucia laughed, as she was meant to, and that pushed Toy off-balance. Insolent he might be, but he liked being laughed at no more than the next man.

Mistress Anan added to the man's discomfort with her own comments, spoken just loud enough to be heard by everybody. Tuon relished her crisp insults, listening in delight. "She might have said men are pigs, or just that you are. She may have said you are a mud-footed country lout with dirt in your ears and hay in your hair. Or she might have said—"

"I think I see the direction you're going," Toy almost snarled. His face was by now redder than the rosebuds pinned to Tuon's dress. She couldn't help laughing a little at how completely his show of rebellion had been turned on its head.

He glanced at her only once, scowling, and then pulled out his pipe. He loaded it and lit it with a fire-striker—one of Aludra's toys.

"The strikers, they should not be wasted," the braided woman rebuked him from over her stones game with Merrilin. "Me, I must be in the same place for two days to make more. Men always find ways to make work for women, yes?" Toy didn't look at her, but his mouth went tight.

Tuon finished her portion of the roasted bird and handed it to Selucia to dispose of in the pit one of the servants had dug. Then she rose, resisting the urge to smooth her skirts or brush away the dead leaves and bark that clung to the material. She was dressed in practical clothing—silk did not do for riding—but that was no reason for her to neglect her appearance.

I WISH TO RINSE MY HANDS. UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE, I DO NOT SIMPLY ABANDON CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR ONCE I AM AWAY FROM THE CITY.

Selucia was at her side in a moment as she headed towards the stream. OF COURSE, HIGH LADY, THOUGH I REGRET THAT WE HAVE NOT THE TIME TO UNPACK THE SOAP.

I CAN MAKE DO FOR NOW. BESIDES, IT MIGHT BE BEST TO SAVE THE SOAP FOR CLEANING UP THAT STRAY PUPPY I SEEM TO HAVE ADOPTED.

INDEED. SINCE LEAVING HIS LAST MISTRESS, HE HAS BEEN MOST SADLY NEGLECTED, Selucia agreed with a smile.

They were halfway to the stream when a scream sounded behind them. Tuon glanced over her shoulder to see the _da'covale_—Thera, wasn't she?—practically in hysterics as a long black snake slithered past her. Both Leilwin and Juilin drew their swords and made to kill the thing, but Toy stopped them.

"Let it go, Juilin. It's heading away from us. Let it go."

After a moment, both obeyed him. As the man wrapped his arms around the whimpering _da'covale_—Tuon would have sneered in contempt if she hadn't been trained to hide her emotions—he asked, "What kind is it, anyway?"

Toy reluctantly replied, "A blacklance." Juilin stiffened and glared after the snake as if he were tempted to go after it anyway. His fear could not have been plainer even if he had shouted. Tuon _hmmed_ deep in her throat and beckoned to Selucia. IT IS NO THREAT NOW. LET US CONTINUE.

She bent to rinse her hands as Toy spoke from the clearing. She paid no attention to his attempts to hurry her along, taking care that her face and arms were clean. Selucia produced a small towel to dry off with as they walked back. She handed the towel to her maid and went to stand in front of Toy.

"A strange man, who lets poisonous serpents go," Tuon said thoughtfully. "From the fellow's reaction, I assume a blacklance _is_ poisonous?"

"Very," he admitted. "But snakes don't bite anything they can't eat unless they're threatened." He started to mount. Eyeing the stiff way he moved, Tuon made a decision.

"You may kiss me, Toy." She ignored the sudden stares and Selucia's silent disapproval. She kept her gaze steady on the flabbergasted man.

"Now? When we stop tonight, we could take a stroll alone—" he stammered.

"By tonight, I may have changed my mind, Toy. Call it a whim, for a man who lets poisonous snakes go." It took a brave man or a foolish one to ignore danger nearby. She hadn't quite decided which one he was yet.

Toy only hesitated for one more moment before he removed his hat, stuck his spear in the ground, removed his pipe and gave her a peck on the lips. He was so perfunctory about it, so bashful, that she was forced to wonder. Either those stories Mistress Anan told her were vastly exaggerated, or Toy was…she wasn't sure what he was. Obviously he was not taken with her. In that case, he must have some ulterior motive for courting her, but she found that hard to credit.

She folded her arms and peered through her eyelashes at him as she had seen a woman do once at the show. "Do I remind you of your sister? Or perhaps your mother?" she demanded. Was he really only toying with her? If so, he would receive a painful awakening from his delusions. She would not be bested in such a way.

She didn't know whether it was her comment or the laughter coming from their _spectators_ that did it, but Toy's face firmed. He briskly emptied his pipe and tucked it away in some pocket, hung his hat on his spear, and reached for her. His arms went around her almost before she knew what was happening. She could feel the muscles in his arms and chest. With them came a peculiar feeling that she firmly ignored, tucking it away where she need not think about it. He bent his head to hers and captured her willing lips.

He was fiery-hot and moist and electric. She had not known a person could do such things with just his mouth. She tried to match him, to undo him as he was undoing her, making her knees weak and her hands shake.

Finally he let go. She stood for a moment gathering her wits. She had not expected anything so intense, despite Selucia's stories. Someone whistled, and Toy smirked a little. That brought her fully back to herself. She was not a prize to be won.

She raised her fingers to touch his cheek. "I thought so. You're feverish. Some of your wounds must be infected."

He blinked and made as if to kiss her again, but she pushed him away impatiently. "Selucia, fetch the box of ointments I got from Mistress Luca."

Toy protested as the _da'covale_ hurried to obey. "We don't have time for that now. I'll smear on something tonight." Since they were in no hurry to get to their destination, whatever that even was, Tuon ignored his excuse.

"Strip off, Toy," Tuon commanded. "The ointment will sting, but I expect you to be brave." If she brought his pride into it, he wouldn't make a sound, though he would yell and carry on otherwise. Men were funny that way.

"I am _not_ going to—!" he yelped, alarmed.

"Riders coming," one of the red-arms informed them. He was already in his saddle and prepared to leave. "One of them's Vanin."

Toy immediately turned away from Tuon and swung into his own saddle. He looked towards the approaching riders. Frowning a little, Tuon turned and gestured for Akein to be brought to her. She mounted quickly, ready to meet whoever the scout had brought back as befitted her station. Who in the Light could the man have found out here?

The two riders slowed as they approached Toy—and they _were_ aiming for Toy. Tuon was surprised by the look on Toy's face: a sort of sick surprise. Toy knew this man, and did not expect him to be here. Master Vanin stopped behind the other man, letting the newcomer approach alone.

Tuon studied the strange man, automatically noting everything about him and considering how he might affect her. He was a small man, both short and thin. The front of his head had been shaved and powdered, and she wondered what that indicated. He was dressed in a dark coat and cloak, which only accentuated his pale skin. His only decoration seemed to be a small red hand, sewn onto his coat and cloak, and a red armband. That too must signify something—perhaps the same thing as the so-called 'Redarms' that answered to Toy. His expression was grim, and he seemed wary, though Tuon was unsure whether that was because of the forest or whatever made Toy look so displeased. He sat in his saddle with the ease of long practice and the demeanor of the Blood. What Tuon couldn't determine was what in the world this man—surely a noble, and clearly not an Altaran—could have had to do with Toy.

"Vanin brought me up to date, Mat," the man said in crisp, quick tones. "I was sorry to hear about Nalesean and the others. A good man, Nalesean. They all were."

"Yes, they were," Toy replied curtly. "I assume Egwene never came to you for help getting away from those fool Aes Sedai, but what in the bloody flaming Light are you doing here? At least tell me you haven't brought the whole bloody Band three hundred bloody miles into Altara with you."

Tuon briefly entertained the thought of reprimanding him for his coarse language, but she had other things to consider. Who was this Egwene? How was this person—a woman?—involved with the _marath'damane?_ How was Toy involved with them? What was the Band, and what was the connection between Toy and this man?

"Egwene is still the Amyrlin," the other man answered, seemingly unperturbed by Toy's language or tone. Tuon wondered what exactly an Amyrlin was. She was certain she had heard something about such a person once or twice since arriving in Ebou Dar. The rest of the conversation was not very enlightening, leaving her with more questions and no answers. What was an 'Accepted,' for instance? Then the conversation between the two men moved on to the 'Band,' which seemed to be a small army. Judging by Toy's comment about payment, it must be _his_ army. The very idea of him having an army was a little strange, and the notion of responsibility was almost impossible to fathom. Toy did not seem like a man to consider things like how he was going to pay his men in the future. Then, the man—Talmanes?—said something that made Tuon's eyes narrow.

"…the Dragon Reborn will give you estates, and grand ones. He has raised men to rule nations, so I hear, and you grew up with him."

Was that a fact? And here Toy had pretended to know nothing about the Dragon Reborn. From the matter-of-fact manner of Talmanes' comment, it seemed that this gifting of estates was more expected than hypothetical. That implied some measure of intimacy. Seeing as Toy had implied the opposite, Tuon found herself somewhat peeved. He had lied to her—by omission, perhaps, but still a lie—and she detested being lied to. She took it as a matter of course most of the time, but the man who was trying to court her ought to know better. Her hand moved almost of its own accord. LET US INTERRUPT THEM NOW.

"That's as may be," Toy allowed grudgingly.

Selucia cleared her throat as Tuon prodded Akein forward. She sat her saddle as she would for a parade rather than a gallop through the countryside. She did not speak, waiting for Toy to realize his duty. When he did not, Selucia glared at him and cleared her throat again. Tuon resolved that once they returned to civilization she would _thoroughly_ instruct him in proper etiquette.

At last, Toy got the point. "Tuon, allow me to present Lord Talmanes Delovinde of Cairhien. His family is distinguished and ancient, and he has added honors to its name." Tuon doubted his family was anywhere near as distinguished as the lowest of the High Blood, but she inclined her head to him briefly all the same. She would model proper behavior, even if Toy was incapable of recognizing it. "Talmanes, this is Tuon." Tuon noted the lack of titles, her lips twitched just once before she could still them. Selucia was not so contained; she glared fit to flay the man with her eyes.

Though Toy tried to do her this disservice, it was obviously wasted. Master Vanin had seemingly briefed this Lord Talmanes, for the short man bowed as low as was possible without falling from his mount. That would be a point for Tuon, then. She was almost tempted to smile.

Toy made a displeased noise and grabbed his hat and spear. He knew she was winning, too. So, as he always seemed to do, he changed the subject. Perhaps he thought she would forget that he had made a fool of himself. He should know by now that she would not.

"We were ready to move on, Talmanes. Take us to where your men are waiting, and we'll see if we can have as good luck avoiding Seanchan on the way out of Altara as you had on the way in." His tone was brusque and businesslike. Tuon wondered whether he had any respect for nobility at all.

"We saw a good many Seanchan," the lord said, turning his mount to ride beside Toy. "Though most of the men we saw seemed to be Altaran. They have camps scattered everywhere, it seems. Luckily, we saw none of those flying creatures I have heard of. But there is a problem, Mat. There was a landslide. I lost my rear guard and some of the packhorses. The pass is well and truly blocked, Mat. I sent three men to try climbing over with the orders sending the Band to Andor. One broke his neck, and another his leg."

Toy halted his gelding, his face like stone. "I'm guessing this is the same pass Vanin was talking about?"

As Talmanes nodded, Vanin spoke from behind them. "Bloody right, it was. Passes don't grow on trees, not in mountains like the Damonas."

"Then you'll have to find another one," Toy informed him confidently. "I've heard you can find your way blindfolded at midnight. It should be easy for you." Toy certainly had a strange way of talking to his subordinates. Tuon did not see the need to bolster the confidence of her _da'covale_. They did what she told them to do, or she got rid of them. It was a simple arrangement.

Vanin scoffed. "Find another pass? Find another pass, the man says. You don't just go find another pass in new mountains like the Damonas. Why do you think I only knew the one?" The man's speech was garbled almost too badly for Tuon to understand him. He must be very out of sorts. Usually he was easier to understand than Toy was.

"What are you talking about?" Toy demanded.

As Vanin explained, Tuon watched Toy. She saw understanding dawn, and then something that looked like suppressed panic crossed his features. The expression didn't last long, however. If she had learned anything about this man in the last month or so, it was that he was too stubborn for his own good. That stubborn determination came to the surface now as Toy looked at each of them.

"Let's ride. I have to think."

If Tuon had been the kind to gamble, she would have wagered Toy would not turn around. There was no way he was going to lead them back towards Ebou Dar, danger or not. So what, exactly, was he going to do? Tuon rather thought the answer to that question might turn out to be the most significant thus far. Perhaps it would even be the last piece to the puzzle that was the man she would marry.


	12. Escape Plan

_AN: I'm SORRY! I neglected starting this chapter for far too long. Part of the reason is school, and part is my own laziness. I think my muses were devoured by major projects for school. Now I'm leaving and will be computerless as of Wednesday until August. Then I'll be student teaching, so who knows when I'll have the time and motivation to work on this again. With that said, I decided to give you whatever I finish before midnight and I'll edit as need be later._

_As previously indicated, this chapter will be in Mat's pov. I actually haven't written in his pov before, so we'll see if I can pull it off. Feedback would be appreciated._

_Thanks as always to readers and reviewers._

_Edited as of 8-30-2007. If you find anymore errors, please let me know. _

_Disclaimer: It's probably a good thing that I'm not RJ. We would never reach book 12. Plot and dialogue from KOD pp 552-563 (The chapter in Tuon's pov)._

* * *

**Chapter 12: Escape Plan  
**

Mat pushed the horses as fast as he dared to rejoin the Band. His mind was racing even faster than Pips' hooves, but his thoughts were a mess. He couldn't make any sort of decent plan without knowing what he had to work with and where the enemy was.

With that in mind, he set about interrogating Talmanes. He listened with growing dread to the list of nobles and their retainers who had joined the Band on the march across Altara and Murandy. Never mind that the plan had been his in the first place—he was _not_ looking forward to dealing with yet more prickly nobles who thought a vaunted pedigree made them his superiors.

Talmanes had finished the list of new additions to the Band—and it was an impressive list—and had begun to relate the current situation. He hadn't gotten far, however, before Mat felt the need to shout.

"You left _Estean_ in charge?" he demanded incredulously. "The man's a fool!" He had thought Talmanes had more sense than that. The Cairhienin had the experience and the intelligence to lead the army in his stead with limited orders. He certainly should have known better than to leave the Band in the hands of an inexperienced glory-minded noble!

"Not too much of a fool to listen to Daerid," was Talmanes' reply. "Carlomin and Reimon are not fools, Mat—at least, Reimon is only a fool sometimes—but neither will they listen to a commoner, no matter how much more he knows about warfare than they do. Edorion will, but I wanted him with me." Throughout his explanation, Talmanes kept his eyes off Mat's face and on the surrounding countryside. He was more a soldier than a noble, with instincts well ingrained.

Well, Talmanes' reasoning made sense, at least. It didn't make Mat happy—he himself was a commoner, after all, and these nobles professed to follow him quick enough—but at least he didn't have to worry about Talmanes' competence. He really was fed up with this noble arrogance, though.

"That's going to change, Talmanes. I let it go on too long as it is. If Reimon and the others command banners now, that makes them Banner-Generals. And you a Lieutenant-General. Daerid commands five banners, and that makes him a Lieutenant-General, too. Reimon and the others will obey his orders or they can go home. Come Tarmon Gai'don, I'm not going to have my skull split open because they bloody refuse to listen to somebody who doesn't have bloody estates."

It was about time they faced that fact. They were going to be fighting in the Last Battle—Light, but he still didn't know how that had become such a sure thing, but it was as sure as the nose on his face—and trollocs didn't care whether you had a fancy title or not. Even if that weren't true, he should have put a stop to the division right away, as soon as the fight for Cairhien had ended. If they were going to follow him, they were bloody well going to do so by his rules.

Talmanes led the party around a patch of briars before speaking again. Mat listened closely. Even though he wouldn't change his mind, he valued Talmanes' opinion. "They will not like it, Mat, but they will not go home, either. You know that." Mat wished they would just go home—he had never asked them to follow him—but Talmanes was still speaking. "Have you any ideas yet how we are to get out of Altara?"

"I'm thinking on it," Mat muttered, frowning. If they couldn't sneak out… "I'm thinking on it. Those crossbowmen….That wasn't wise, Talmanes. For one thing, they're used to marching on their own feet. Half of them will have all they can do to stay in the saddle if we're moving fast, and we're going to have to. They can be useful in woods like these, or anywhere they have plenty of cover, but if we're on open ground, with no pikes, they'll be ridden down before they can loose a second flight." They could be very useful, but they would need to move fast. Even so, since he had them…

A lion coughed in the distance, and Mat leaned down to soothe Pips without thinking about it. Once his mount was quiet, he returned his attention to Talmanes.

"I picked men who could ride, Mat," he said, perhaps a trifle indignantly. With the impassive noble it was hard to tell. "And they all have the new crank." Now his voice was positively enthusiastic in comparison to his usual tones. Mat blinked as Talmanes explained, "Three turns of the crank, and the bowstring is latched. With a little training, a man can get off seven or eight quarrels in a minute. With a heavy crossbow."

"_Seven?_" Mat almost shouted, surprise and exhilaration mingling. "That would be more than useful, but I've never heard of such a thing. Ever." He had a brief recollection of men under his command being cut down by bolts at a faster pace than his own crossbowmen could fire, but even that had not been seven quarrels a minute. He shook his head, reminding himself, _That was not me!_ "How did you come by it?"

"Seven or eight. There was a mechanic in Murandy who wanted to take a wagonload of things he had invented up to Caemlyn. There is a school of some sort there for scholars and inventors. He needed money for the journey, and he was willing to teach the Band's armorers to make the things. Smother your enemies with arrows at every opportunity. It is always better to kill your enemies far off than close at hand."

Mat wondered if being _Ta'veren_ worked for him even when he was not present. "Good advice," he murmured. He tugged at his scarf. In all his borrowed memories, he had preferred to keep his own men alive whenever possible.

"Do you not recognize it?" Talmanes asked. "It is from your book. King Roedran has two copies in his library. He has it memorized. The man thinks it will make him a great captain. He was so pleased with how our bargain worked out that he had a copy printed and bound for me."

Toy blinked. "My book?" He rarely read anything if he could help it, and he certainly had written nothing.

"The one you told us about, Mat," Talmanes answered patiently. "_Fog and Steel_, by Madoc Comadrin."

"Oh, that book. I read it a long time ago." So long ago it was another lifetime, in fact, though Mat would keep that little tidbit to himself. It had been in a different language, too. Useful though, and written from experience and pure genius.

Tuon and Selucia exchanged some sort of silent comment before laughing softly. Mat ignored them, considering his options. If there really was no way out through the mountains—Blood and ashes, but he wished there were—then they would have to fight their way out. He had an inkling that there was no point in trying to sneak around all the Seanchan camps. With his battle luck, they would avoid one only to walk right into another. Best to go about it directly, to tackle the problem head on. He'd have to anyway, wouldn't he? There was an army in the way, stopping him from getting out of Altara. They'd never let him pass, and certainly not with Tuon in his party. He would have to force the enemy to move. He seriously doubted his luck was good enough to move them without his interference.

So then. It was to be a battle. Or a string of them. He really needed to see a map and get some idea of where the enemy was around here. Almost mechanically, he circled wide around a herd of loose cattle. The Redarms had arrows ready, but the beasts didn't attack. How could he make use of those crossbows? Ambush? He would prefer to keep his force as enigmatic as possible. Let the Seanchan believe he was much stronger than he was. Then they would have to pull back every man they had in that pass.

He was dimly aware of a conversation going on between Thom and Tuon, but he didn't pay them much attention. He didn't think Thom would tell her anything she shouldn't know. Mat shifted slightly in his saddle, eyes flicking from side to side occasionally. How much further was it? At last, he spotted a sentry just as the man let out a signal. Mat pushed his thoughts aside for the moment and focused on their approach. It had been months since he had been with the Band, and was a trifle unsure of his reception. Had they come to their senses during his absence, without his _Ta'veren_ tugging to influence them without their knowing? Had they realized just how crazy it was to follow _him_ to battle?

Talmanes had clearly kept up discipline while he had been gone. Mat was pleased to see the clear readiness and tidiness of the camp. Not much had changed from when he had marched with them, other than the size of the Band. As they entered the camp, men who had been with him before they entered Altara all those months ago began rising to their feet. He almost sighed when they started calling him 'Lord Mat,' but he had given up on convincing them otherwise. It was never good to give orders that you knew wouldn't be followed.

"Mostly we camp during the day and move at night to avoid being seen by the Seanchan," Talmanes reported as Mat ran a scrutinizing eye over the camp. "Just because we have seen none of those flying beasts does not mean some might not be around. Most of the Seanchan seem to be farther north or farther south, but apparently they have a camp not thirty miles north of here, and rumor says there is one of the creatures there."

"You seem pretty well informed," Mat remarked. He hoped Talmanes had been discreet. He hoped there _wasn't_ really a _raken_ nearby. Well, they'd just have to stay under cover as they moved, then. And they'd have to move fast, before the Seanchan could discover they were here. Thank the Light moving fast was one of the things he had stressed in the Band.

"I am that, Mat. I brought half the scouts, and I also signed some Altarans who were fighting the Seanchan. Well, most of them seem to have been stealing horses more than anything else, but some were willing to give that up for a chance to really fight them. I think I know where most of the Seanchan camps are from the Malvide Narrows south to here."

That _was_ welcome news—though he almost wished he hadn't gotten it, since it meant his half-formed plan would work—but before he could dwell on it, one of the soldiers began singing. Mat vaguely recognized him as one of those who had been with him in the very beginning, but he was quickly joined by others until the entire camp was singing 'Jak o' the Shadows.'

Mat waited as patiently as he could for them to finish. Not for the first time, he wished he had not taught them that song. He nearly winced at the last verse, the one with his name in it, but shook off the desire and reined in Pips. He thrust his _Ashanderei_ into the air and waited for silence to fall. It did so with gratifying quickness.

"Let's not let them know we're here until we want them to know," he suggested, speaking loudly enough for many of the closest men to hear. If he tried to speak loudly enough for the entire camp to hear, he'd soon lose his voice. "We're a long way from home, but I mean to get us home. So be ready to move, and move fast. The Band of the Red Hand can move faster than anybody else, and we're going to prove it." Many of the men nodded, agreeing with his assessment. Mat turned to Talmanes. "Do you have maps?"

"The best to be found. The Band has its own mapmaker, now. Master Roidelle already had good maps of everything from the Aryth Ocean to the Spine of the World, and since we crossed the Damonas, he and his assistants have been making new maps of the country we crossed. They even marked a map of eastern Altara with what we have learned of the Seanchan. Most of those camps are temporary, though. Soldiers heading somewhere else."

"I'll want to talk to Master Roidelle, too." Mat was really beginning to wonder about his luck. Not only phenomenal new crossbows, and a banner of masons, but a mapmaker and just the map he needed all prepared and up-to-date as well? This was becoming almost too much of a coincidence. He recalled the Pattern so favored by the Aes Sedai and Rand as well—he cursed himself briefly for that idle thought as he shoved back the colors that tried to form—and wondered if there was any way he could have avoided the present situation. He always took only the path he had to take, and yet he always ended up where he didn't want to be.

Soldiers took their horses and provided stools. Lopin brought tea to Tuon, who seemed quite interested in the camp. Her big eyes seemed to see everything. He wondered how she was going to take his plan. Not well, he'd wager, though with her if might be hard to tell. Mat tore his gaze away. He had other matters to consider right now. Noal, Olver, Thom, and Aludra wandered off, but the rest of the party took stools and seated themselves to watch and probably interfere with the proceedings.

Edorion, Reimon, and Carlomin arrived in short order. Mat was nonplussed to see the red hand emblem on their silk coats—they really were taking this further than he had expected. They greeted him warmly and bowed as well to the Aes Sedai. Mat resisted the urge to roll his eyes. After traveling with the women and putting up with their vagaries for so long, he no longer thought any of the three women deserved more than a spanking. If he spoke that thought aloud, of course, all three nobles would probably gape at him.

Master Roidelle, Mat discovered, was older than and almost as bulky as Vanin. He was followed by six underlings who carried all his map cases. "I brought all the maps of Altara I have, my Lord," he told Talmanes with a bow. "Some cover the whole country, they do, some no more than a hundred square miles. The best are my own, of course, those I made these past weeks." No false modesty here, but Mat was willing to forgive him if his work really was as precise and accurate as implied.

"Lord Mat will tell you what he wants to see. Shall we leave you to it, Mat?" Talmanes asked.

Mat ignored the suggestion, already focusing on Master Roidelle. "I want to see the map of the Seanchan camps."

As soon as it was laid on the ground, Mat squatted beside it. The detail really was impressive, and he could only trust that it was accurate. With how much effort had clearly gone into it—there were even symbols indicating general wildlife and leaf cover—Mat assumed Roidelle would not have made a careless mistake. How long the map would be viable was another question, and one that couldn't be helped. Well, that was what his scouts were for.

He studied the map for a moment more, interpreting the flat symbols and colors into the terrain he had been riding through. Lifetimes of practice reading such maps made it an easy task. "We're about here, right?" he asked, just to be sure he was reading everything correctly and his sense of direction and distance was correct. When Roidelle affirmed his guess, Mat moved his finger. "So this is the camp were the _raken_ supposedly is? The flying beast?"

"Yes, milord."

"Good. What kind of camp is it? How many men are there?"

Roidelle answered fully, providing all the details Mat needed, but hedged his explanations with "supposedly" and "I'm told." Clearly he didn't want to be held to task if things weren't exactly as he said. As if Mat wasn't aware that things changed constantly. Plans only lasted until the battle started, after all. Still, what he did know was enough.

He asked about several other camps, receiving similar explanations of approximate numbers of laborers and soldiers, rarely more than a few hundred of each. That was good enough as far as it went—attacking supply camps could sometimes be a much better tactic than attacking the army itself—but Mat needed more information.

"Soldiers, Master Roidelle. Show me where the soldiers are. And more than any few hundred," Mat ordered. Even if it was supposition, rumor was often based on fact.

He ignored the conversation going on behind him and Reimon's sudden laugh as Roidelle pointed out where he thought most of the soldiers were.

"…and here I'm told there are three thousand soldiers, mostly Altarans conscripted by the Seanchan."

"Three thousand? You're sure?"

"I'm sure enough that it's what I was told, but as I haven't seen…" Roidelle began.

Mat cut him off. "Sure enough, man. Sure enough will do. Vanin can locate them if they haven't moved too far."

It would work. As he moved his eyes and fingers over the map, mentally calculating distances and times, he felt a surety in his bones. With four thousand crossbows and the cavalry, as well as Aludra's dragons' eggs and his battle luck, he could make it work. He'd have to break up the Band into smaller units to do it—smaller than banners, even, only a few hundred men each—which meant finding commanders he trusted. Doing so would make the Seanchan uncertain of him. When they started losing supply camps and troops of men in supposedly secure territory, they'd have to bring all their soldiers to bear, including the detachment in the Malvide Narrows. And when they did—the Band would be long gone, out the pass and beyond their jurisdiction.

Well, that was the gist of it, anyway. He rocked back on his heels, looking the map over once more. He'd get them all out: the Band, the Aes Sedai, and Tuon. He defied the Seanchan or the Dark One himself to stop him.

And then, well, he'd see what came next.

* * *

_It didn't want to end. Not much Tuon-ness, sorry. Review?_


	13. The Lion on the Hill

_AN: As predicted, I was unable to write over the summer, and lacked the motivation upon my return to real life. Sorry about the wait. This picks up right where Tuon's pov cuts off in the book. Sorry if this generates any unnecessary confusion._

_Thanks to my reviewers. You guys keep me writing, even when the motivation wanes._

_R.I.P., RJ. You will be missed. _

_Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim any ownership of WOT. Plot, characters, and the majority of the dialogue come from KOD 595-603. Any grammatical errors, on the other hand, probably are mine._

* * *

**The Lion on the Hill**

Tuon was admittedly a trifle dazed after her sudden revelation about the man she had been observing for the last weeks. She was nonetheless aware of Toy's sudden conversion to activity. He ordered—and it was definitely ordering, with the properly firm tone and expectation of obedience—that Aludra be found and brought to him. Tuon wondered why Toy would want to speak to that woman. Of what use could she possibly be? She had not seemed to have any particular skills up to this point, not that Tuon had been paying close attention.

Toy also summoned his men, the nobles, and began asking them about men with leadership abilities. Tuon could not fathom why he needed to know such things. This was not the appropriate time for commendations, surely. What in the world was he planning? She could tell by the light in his eyes and the way he held himself that he had something in mind. He might not like it much, judging by the grim look on his face as he explained something to Edorion, but he thought it would work.

This confidence was not something she had seen in him before. Oh, he had confidence in spades, that she knew. But it had always appeared to be a sort of brash, foolhardy attitude before. This now was a man who knew his abilities, who knew what he was doing and would do whatever was necessary to meet his goals. It gave her a little inkling of apprehension. He could be a powerful enemy, if this all went wrong. At the same time, she felt a wiggle of pleasure as well. She had chosen better than she knew.

She would have stayed to study him further, but Lopin appeared at her elbow and suggested that surely she would prefer to rest. He could find water for washing if she wished, and refreshments that were more sustaining than tea. She might have brushed him off, but she was not such a child as to stay to satisfy her curiosity when she did need refreshing. So she thanked him graciously and allowed him to lead her away. It would be some time before Toy was ready to move out, anyway. She would have plenty of time to get the entire plan out of him then.

* * *

--

When she had washed and eaten, she swept out of the tent she had been given. She was aware of the men's eyes on her—nothing at all like home, where commoners kept their eyes on the ground as she passed. They made her want to shiver, but she had more control than that.

Toy was still speaking with Talmanes and a few other men when she reached him. "…hit them hard and fast and then move. We've got a lot to do in a very short time. The men can do it, if you push a bit. Don't leave our men behind, though. I want the Seanchan wondering for as long as possible." His men were nodding at his orders, with no sign of impatience or doubt. Not even when his eyes weren't on them. That was very interesting.

Toy turned to smile at her. It was a warm smile, far too familiar and assuming. "Ah, Tuon. Would you like…"

On impulse (1), she cut him off. "I will stay with you."

He looked surprised momentarily, before that cocky grin was back. "Are you certain? This battle is no place for a lady."

"I have seen battle before," she dismissed his concerns coolly. "You have not fulfilled your promise yet."

He swept her a gallant bow. "As you wish, milady. You will be at my side." His eyes were sharp as he straightened, studying her briefly. "We'll be leaving in a bit. We've a fair way to go before tomorrow night. If you've anything you want to do before then…"

She sniffed dismissively. "Do not tell a _sul'dam_ how to train _damane_. I will be ready. Do not leave without me."

As she turned away, she heard him say, "Speaking of, I need to speak with Teslyn and the others. Where have…"

Tuon suppressed a scowl and quickened her stride. Her thumb was running over the ends of her fingers, where her lacquered nails had been shorn. She made herself stop. First Aludra, now the _marath'damane_! Had the man _no_ tact? Fuming, she went in search of Mistress Anan. She wished to know what the old innkeeper knew of this new, commanding Toy.

* * *

--

The situation was almost surreal. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting shadows and making it hard to scrutinize their surroundings. No matter. She was safe enough, with Selucia at her side as always, and Toy astride his horse not far away, not to mention two thousand men armed with that new crossbow.

She did not particularly want to be here. It wasn't that she was nervous about the impending battle—she had seen enough of battle to not react with fear—but that she was sitting on the wrong side. The supply camp they were attacking belonged to _her_ armies. But she had sworn not to interfere with Toy's subordinates, nor to betray him. She couldn't see any other way to stop him that wouldn't require betrayal.

So why _was_ she here? She was not planning on having anything to do with the battle. She could care less about the outcome. There were downsides no matter what happened. Her eyes remained fixed on Toy. Did it really matter so much what he did that she had to be there to watch it? She rather thought so, but she couldn't be sure. She still hadn't figured him out, and there were things you could learn about a man based on how he behaved when his plans fell apart. That was what she told herself, anyway.

She was only half-listening to the conversation going on, recognizing it as the outlet of nerves and impatience. Toy's comment about bloodying the Seanchan, however, pricked her ire.

It was getting too dark to speak with their hands, mores the pity. Being able to talk without being heard might have given them some security. Tuon leaned over to whisper to Selucia instead. "He has such grand plans. I wonder if he can make them come to be."

"If he does, it will be the first sign of ability I've seen, other than knife-fighting," Selucia replied doubtfully. Her eyes watched the men—and _marath'damane_—around her without seeming to. She trusted no one but herself with her High Lady's safety.

"If his plans come to fruition, I may let him kiss me again," Tuon decided softly. Her skin was still tingling from the last kiss, over an hour ago. She had to resist the urge to lick her lips. Selucia's mouth tightened in disapproval, but she said nothing. It was not her place to object.

A scout in a tree above them shouted down his sighting of two nightflowers. Tuon did not know what the signal meant, but apparently it was the one Toy had been awaiting. He sent Vanin riding off and then had his officer, Mandevwin, relay orders to get the men moving. Tuon tightened her grip on the reins briefly. This was it.

The woods were quiet as they rode through. They themselves made some noise, of course, between hooves and saddles and the occasional snapped branch underfoot. They passed through a village, eyes watching them go. Tuon glanced back as they left it, but none of their riders had veered off to warn the villagers to stay inside, and no one had come out into the street. Toy must run his army very differently from the Seanchan.

Toy kept glancing back at her every so often. She remained poised in her saddle and would not let him discomfit her. Her eyes tracked a silent owl overhead. She hadn't needed the omen to tell her there would be trouble tonight. (2)

They finally halted between two hills, well beyond the village. Toy gave orders, which Mandevwin passed along without question. Tuon watched the interaction between the two men and was surprised once again at the trust these soldiers put in Toy. Some of them thought themselves as good as High Blood, but one and all they obeyed Toy without hesitation. She simply could not fathom it.

A fraction of the men stayed with the hobbled horses. A small fraction, not the five hundred Mandevwin had wanted. Toy must be very confident of success if he was not worried about a quick retreat. The rest split up and spread out along the hills, blending into the undergrowth. If Tuon had not watched them settle in, she would have had a hard time picking out more than a handful of the crossbowmen.

Soon it was just Tuon, Toy, and Selucia. And the _marath'damane_, Tessi, though she was really beneath Tuon's notice. The wind tugged at Tuon's cloak, so she held it closed with the hand not on the reins. The night was a little brisk, but not too cold. Winter in Seandar was much harsher.

"You might be more comfortable among the trees," Toy suggested. "They'll cut the wind."

She wanted to giggle at the difference to his commanding air. Somehow, he seemed unsure when he was dealing with just her. It made a nice change, though an intriguing one. He always pretended to be so certain of himself, but now that she had seen him at work she would not be fooled.

"I'm enjoying watching you take your ease on your hilltop," she told him in amusement. A laugh bubbled up in her at his obvious confusion. She had not told him she thought him a lion, after all. It would make a fine joke, until she tired of it.

"Have a care with Joline," Tessi butted into the conversation rudely. "She be…childish…in some ways, and you do fascinate her the way a shiny new toy do fascinate a child. She will bond you if she can decide how to convince you to agree. Perhaps even if you do no realize you be agreeing."

The impertinence of the interruption and the garbled grammar vexed Tuon just as much as the content of her 'warning.' Tuon found herself responding before she could stop herself. "She cannot have him." She paused to reel in her temper, putting on an affable demeanor before adding, "Toy belongs to me. Until I am through playing with him. But even then, I won't give him to a _marath'damane_. You understand me, Tessi? You tell Rosi that. That's the name I intend to give her. You can tell her that, too."

Tuon delighted in the utter loss of composure her words incited. Fear and anger passed over Tessi's face and made her voice shake. "What I do understand--!"

Once again, Toy proved his utter lack of sense or civility. "Give over! Both of you. I'm in no mood to listen to the pair of you trying to jab each other with needles."

Tessi seemed not to know what to say to that, but Tuon only smiled. She could handle him, now. "Why, Toy, you're being masterful again!" she exclaimed. She leaned over to Selucia again. "I wonder how masterful he will look in the costume of a _da'covale_ when this is over?" Selucia chuckled at the quip, and Tuon was rewarded by Toy's obvious discomfort.

In what was likely an attempt to hastily forget her own confusion, Tessi questioned Toy yet again on the rationale behind his strategy. Tuon did not know all the details—despite her best efforts, Toy had been less than forthcoming when she was nearby—but she gathered it was to be standard guerilla warfare. In other words, ambushes and raids, carried out in small groups. The Seanchan army never used such tactics, of course, but they had fought those who had. Many Seanchan generals knew how to deal with it, but Tuon was not sure who had command over these little camps and outposts in between anything important.

For some reason, Toy decided to humor the _marath'damane_ this time. Tuon listened in while pretending otherwise. She did not want him to presume to hold her attention all the time.

"I'm counting on them sending more soldiers, Teslyn. The whole army they have in the Molvaine Gap, in fact. Enough of it, anyway. They're more likely to use that than any other. Everything Thom and Juilin picked up says their big push is aimed at Illian. I think the army in the Gap is to guard against anything coming at them out of Murandy or Andor. But they're the stopper in the jar for us. I mean to pull that stopper out so we can pass through."

Tuon was speechless. It was an audacious plan. It depended on so many things going exactly right. He was counting on men he didn't know making decisions a certain way, based on information that was surely third or fourth hand, at best. Toy was planning to move entire armies, to disrupt the careful plans of the _Corenne_, all so that he and his men could slip free.

And yet, she rather thought he might manage it. If he did, he would surely deserve a reward.

Was this what was meant by 'make the ravens fly?' As always, the lines of Lydia's prophecy ran through her head and made her wonder. She did wish it were more easily verifiable. She would be done with Toy in a moment if she could only be sure he were not the one.

She brushed that thought aside, as she had a dozen times before. Now wasn't the time to dwell on it.

How had he come up with this plan? What information had Masters Merrilin and Sandar brought him? Knowing how cunning Merrilin was, probably more than the speakers had known they were saying, but the information could not be that comprehensive. If this was all Toy's plan…Tuon's hand made a motion toward her scalp before she halted it. She wished she could see this man in action at the head of her armies. That would be a thing to behold.

They had a long wait. Tuon had experience with waiting. It seemed she was always waiting for word, waiting for the Empress to allow an audience, waiting for the ship to land, waiting for her games to play out…

She amused herself by making observations to Selucia whenever Toy tried to convince her to hide among the trees. In between, she studied the stars and the configurations that differed from the ones back home. When that became tiresome, she imagined Toy in various positions as _da'covale_—she no longer thought he would make a good cupbearer—or decided which _sul'dam_ she would allow to tame the _marath'damane_.

Eventually, Vanin arrived on his horse. Tuon's lip curled briefly at his ever lackadaisical and sloppy posture. He reported that the Seanchan were close behind and more numerous than expected, but Toy seemed unconcerned. He would not listen to Tessi's latest attempt to council him, to Tuon's relief, and merely rode forward to join the crossbowmen among the trees. The watchers were called in and everyone watched the road in anticipation.

An owl hooted twice, making Tuon sigh. Not that she had doubted the inevitable outcome of this night, but it was still not a pleasant prospect.

"Is there an omen in that?"

She looked at Toy, taking in what she could see of his cool posture and composed face. He was watching her, not the road. "I'm glad you are finally taking an interest, Toy. Perhaps I will be able to educate you yet. An owl hooting twice means someone will die soon."

It didn't take long for the Seanchan to arrive, especially in comparison to the earlier wait. They were four abreast, as always, and leading their horses at a sensible pace. Most were newer recruits taken from this land, of course, with only a few dozen veterans from home to help them understand the ways of the Seanchan.

"Banner! Halt!" an officer shouted. The men from home obeyed instantly, but the Altarans took a moment to catch on. Their lines became a little less neat. Tuon made a note to mention this to her generals when she returned. If she returned.

She would also mention the need for proper scouts, to warn of ambushes. Not that it would do this group any good.

"Banner! Mount!"

"Now." Toy's command was soft, but sure. Immediately, a ball of red light flared above the column, both signaling the attack and outlining their targets clearly. Every crossbowman fired at once, in a display of discipline that had Tuon nodding once in approval. This was what an army should act like.

Tuon observed the screaming men and panicking horses for only a moment. Long enough to assess the damage two thousand bolts had done. Then she turned to watch a pair of crossbowmen reload, marveling at the crank and the efficiency of the duo. She _had_ to get her hands on one of those crossbows! She was certain someone would be able to reproduce it, and it would be well worth whatever she had to part with to get one.

Not knowing about the crank, the Seanchan officer ordered his men into the trees to take the opportunity normally afforded by reloading. Unfortunately for him, none of his men were fast enough. Another round of bolts thrummed through the air as soon as they were loaded. There was no need for a third round.

A few men were still moving weakly, but Tuon guessed most would bleed to death before morning. A few more horses were running, but none were so fine that Tuon thought that a waste. Someone else could catch them, or not.

"Mandevwin, we're done here. Mount the men. We have places to be." Toy's voice was a little harsher than it had been, and a little quicker. Not much, though. He must have seen and dealt death on such a scale before. At least he was not sick, or fainting. She would not be able to abide such a weak man.

"You must stay to offer aid," Tessi asserted. "The rules of war do demand it."

"This is a new kind of war," Toy snapped. "They'll have to wait for their own to give them aid."

Tuon almost nodded. Tessi clearly had missed the point of Toy's strategy. Stopping to give aid would reveal far too much and slow them down. "A lion can have no mercy," she murmured softly in satisfaction.

Perhaps she would have to find another name than 'Toy,' she mused. That one didn't seem to fit quite so well at the moment. She let herself smile a little as she eyed his stiff back and the unused spear still clutched in one hand.

No, not a toy at all.

* * *

Notes:

(1) Tuon is not usually impulsive. Chalk it up to Ta'veren. Or me writing the scenes out of order and not wanting to change it. Whichever. This whole scene still bothers me.

(2) I made this up, and changed it twice. None of the few omens I found associated with owls quite fit the situation.

My excuse: Summer camp, Student teaching, no motivation, and then I fell back into the HP fandom, which does bad, bad things to all my muses. I'm still not over it, but I figured a year was long enough to make you all wait. I had two scenes written way back in September or October, and was stuck on the rest. It's a little shorter than I'd hoped after all this time, and I'm still not quite satisfied, but Tuon just would not cooperate. Hopefully the next two chapters will be a little smoother. I'm shooting for September to post the next chapter.


	14. What the Band Does Best

_AN: Is anyone still reading this? I anticipate one more (shorter) chapter to finish off KOD and depending on feedback, will consider continuing from there. There is a poll up on my profile page if you don't care to review. You just have to click three buttons _

_Disclaimer: Surprisingly, I have not suddenly come into ownership of the rights to WOT. Plot, characters, and the dialogue at the end come from KOD 730-734._

**

* * *

What the Band Does Best**

What followed the ambush was later a rather hazy recollection that left Tuon thinking fondly of the Tarasin Palace and wishing for the leisurely pace of Luca's menagerie. She had thought they moved fast before, getting into position for the ambush. She was swiftly disabused of that notion.

They rode hard and fast, or as fast as was safe in the dark. Like any military body, every man dismounted to trot beside his mount at intervals. Even Toy, and old Merrilin, and fat Vanin. She kept her eyes off of the latter. It was harder to keep her eyes off Toy, who acted much as if these were everyday affairs.

Scouts left and returned frequently, but she was not close enough to hear what they said. Much of the time they said little, merely giving gestures to indicate they had found nothing.

It had been hours of constant running and walking before they met up with the other half of their contingent. There were grins and waves as the two forces merged. Toy slowed his mount to a walk in order to converse with whoever had led the others. Then he turned in his saddle and swept his gaze over the column. Tuon managed not to react when his eyes rested briefly on her. She was grateful that she couldn't see the look in them in the dark.

"A short break, only. Vanin found a stream close by." His comment wasn't loud, seemingly a response to a question, but his voice carried on the still night air. "We'll move on once the horses are watered."

It took surprisingly little time to water two thousand horses. Tuon found herself wishing they could rest a little more, but she could hardly say so. She was not a fragile doll and luxury was not an option at the moment. At least she had had plenty of practice riding lately, so she was not unduly sore.

More hours of riding followed that far too short break. Eventually they paused again. Around her, men leaned against their horses or sprawled on the ground, taking full advantage of the halt. Being a High Lady, such behavior was not really feasible for Tuon. Not that she would have anyway: it was extremely unprofessional. Where was their pride?

"I wonder how far he intends to push, tonight. He cannot possibly think we were followed," she murmured to Selucia wearily.

Her faithful shadow fanned herself with one hand. "No one would believe we could come so far, so fast, and in the dark."

A bird's call rang out, slightly off. A moment later, another followed. Glancing over curiously, Tuon spotted several men approaching, leading horses. At least one looked familiar, though it was hard to tell in the dark.

"Carlomin, you made it. I was starting to wonder if you had been delayed."

"No, Lord Mat."

"Did you lose any?"

"Fortunately not."

"Good then. How long until your men are ready to move?"

"A quarter of an hour, more if we can spare it. We're going to have to keep moving once we hit them, and it won't take long before the men and horses become exhausted." Carlomin spoke blandly, without condescension or overt subservience. It was not how Tuon permitted her underlings to speak to her, but this was not the time to interrupt.

"I bloody well know that! I've got Vanin and the others verifying the camp's location right now. We won't move until they get back."

"Yes, Lord Mat."

Tuon watched Toy pacing back and forth, occasionally making some comment to a nearby soldier. His gaze moved even more than his feet, never alighting on anything for long as he watched their surroundings.

"You seem deep in thought."

Tuon glanced to her left at Setalle. "I am trying to discern where this strange commander came from. He seems…more forceful. More serious." More of a threat, though Tuon didn't voice that thought.

Setalle pursed her lips and regarded Toy in silence for several minutes. Eventually, she nodded sharply and turned back to Tuon.

"This isn't the Mat I first saw in my common room in Ebou Dar, nor the one who I hear wandered into the queen's chambers swaggering and covered in mud. He is displaying a different side of his personality, one that he only shows in certain situations." She paused, then added, "I went out on my husband's boat with him a few times. The Jasfer at the rudder was completely different from the man I saw in my inn. It's a matter of being in command, of knowing in his soul that he will be obeyed and it's his job to make things work."

"It is unexpected," Tuon murmured.

Setalle laughed lightly. "I do not know why people insist that women are whimsical, when men so clearly can't make up their own minds half the time. I suspect they do it just to keep us on our toes."

While this could be true, Tuon did not feel certain enough to voice an opinion. She was still feeling slightly unsettled about Toy's new face. How many layers did the man have?

Toy seemed skittish as he approached her at last. She watched him come with a composed face, though she found herself wanting to smile. Leading armies and fighting vagabonds he could face with a grin and a tip of his silly hat, but he could not approach her with anything resembling calm? Perhaps there was some hope for him, after all, though she found herself obscurely disappointed by his flagging courage. A lion should not be afraid of anything, except the tamer's prod, and she was honest enough with herself to recognize that she had not tamed him yet.

"Perhaps you would like to rest a bit longer, Tuon. There's no need for you to ride along, just to wait while we have a little skirmish."

Tuon's eyes narrowed. "What would I do while waiting? There is nothing of any entertainment value here." She glanced disdainfully at the trees and rocks around her, to underscore her point. "I'd much rather see what you do next."

IN PARTICULAR, WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU MEET WITH RESISTANCE, she signed to Selucia, unable to resist the comment. She would be very disappointed if the soldiers of the Empire didn't organize themselves and make a stand, whether they were local conscripts or the elite brought over the ocean with the Return.

THAT SHOULD INDEED BE INTERESTING, the woman replied in kind. Her eyes sparkled.

Toy was not quite done trying to persuade her, yet. "I doubt there will be much of interest for you to see with me, either."

"Oh, but Toy, you are always of interest. Even a sleeping lion is interesting, though a fighting one is much more so. Something about the element of danger is captivating, wouldn't you agree?"

She could almost hear him gritting his teeth. "Of course. In that case, we will be leaving within the hour."

Tuon made a show of looking around. "I believe I can be prepared."

He sighed and started to turn. Then he caught himself and swept her a gallant bow, as he had done when he was actively courting her. "I shall leave you to it." With that, he stalked away. If he had been a lion in truth, she was certain his tail would have been twitching and his fur bristling in agitation.

The sky in the east was just beginning to fade to gray when Toy's Band stumbled over the Seanchan contingent they had been looking for. The Band was bigger, and hesitated only a moment in surprise. Tuon glanced at Toy, but his head was turned away. He made a few gestures: the command to form a line was universal. She heard no words spoken in the half a minute it took for the two forces to react.

Crossbowmen immediately dismounted in order to load and crank their bows. Once again, Tuon had cause to admire and covet the new crank. The Band would have the first shot, and perhaps the second, free of return fire. That was not a small advantage.

The crossbows twanged as the bolts were released, crossing the pristine section of road to fall in a deadly rain among the Seanchan. There were cries and frantic movement in response, but Tuon did not have a good enough view to count the fallen. Her left leg twitched as she considered riding forward, but Selucia signed, HIGH LADY with the interrogative, and Tuon subsided. This was not her battle, and it would be foolish to present a target.

Her eyes went back to Toy, consideringly. He was still silent, not calling orders. He had a grip on his odd spear, but it was pointed toward the ground. The reins of his horse were looped around his wrist, but that hand rested quietly on his leg. His body was straight and tall in the saddle, but quiet and fearless.

The shouting morphed from pained to determined. Tuon knew the Seanchan would be advancing. Toy lifted his chin, visibly steeling himself, and Tuon wondered why. Then he called out "First two ranks, mount up! Prepare to engage."

His words echoed as officers passed the orders along. The men in the front had hardly needed the orders, it seemed, for they were already scrambling back into their saddles. Behind them, the rear ranks continued to load and shoot over their mounted comrades.

A roar and the smell of sulfur announced the presence of that woman, Aludra. One of her 'eggs' crashed down among the Seanchan, but it was too late to turn the charge. It only heightened the confusion.

The two forces met with a cacophony, like crashing porcelain and dinnerware. The screams and shouts were closer now, with the men on Toy's side contributing to the noise.

Toy was gone from her sight. She blinked, wondering just when he had slipped her notice, and glanced around for him. At last she spotted him further forward, laying about with his spear on any who got past the front line. The men around him seemed to fight with more vigor upon noticing him.

Tuon shook her head just a little. That was a habit she would have to force him to break. A general's place was well in the back, where he could both see and react to changes in tactics. A place where one lucky pikeman was not going to sweep him out of the saddle.

Light, but he knew what he was doing with that spear! She had seen him with his knives, deadly and quick as a viper, but this was something else. Even in the saddle of his ugly little gelding, he was grace and power. The wood was an extension of his arm, and she wondered how many hours he had practiced to become used to the balance of it. The wicked curve of metal on the end was lethal every time it bit into flesh, and it never struck an ally.

The spear rose upright into the air, and Tuon realized the fight was over. Only Toy's men were still mounted, though not all of them. As expected in a close engagement, there were losses on both sides. But she had to admit, as she eyed the bloody stretch of road, the losses were much heavier on the part of the Seanchan. Toy's men were very skilled.

"Load our dead onto remounts. Have the serious injuries seen to—Teslyn should be able to heal the worst wounded. Then get everyone mounted. I want to be gone before more arrive." Toy sounded weary, his voice was dull and slower than normal. "Let them know they did well. Very well." The officers around him nodded and saluted and turned to relay their orders. Toy sat very still for a long moment, staring north. Then he sighed and kneed his horse, coming for her.

"Are you alright, Tuon?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "As you can see, I stayed here, well back from the fighting." AS HE SHOULD HAVE, she signed to Selucia. She nodded.

Toy had the temerity to grin cheerfully, not at all ashamed of his behavior. "Well, good then. I'd hate to have to buy more silk because you got blood on your dress."

"You must go through a fortune in gold replacing your own wardrobe. I would not wish to add to that." She gave a pointed look at the spatters on his own coat, though she could see no obvious rents this time. HIS COSTUME SHOULD BE DARK RED OR BLACK, TO HIDE THE BLOOD.

AND LAYERED, TO HIDE RIPS AND GASHES, Selucia added, eyes dancing. She might not approve of Toy as a husband, but she had nothing against teasing him. Especially when he did not know it.

Toy merely laughed, though, and began to turn away. "We'll be on the move shortly."

"Thank you for the warning," she replied sweetly, as if it weren't perfectly obvious.

They rode for several more hours. The sun was well up by the time they halted. A camp went up with the efficiency to which Tuon was becoming accustomed. It seemed that everything the Band did, they did quickly. Horses were cared for, food was consumed, sentries set, and a number of tents erected within the hour.

Tuon discovered that her own tent had been set up without requiring her supervision. Lopin had even provided hot tea made to her tastes and a meal, set up on a little folding table. She ate and drank gratefully. It had been some time since she had ridden so hard and long. It was good to be still.

She needed no persuading to take to her bed when she had finished eating. They had been awake and moving for an entire, exciting day. There were things she wanted to say to Toy, questions she desired to ask, but they could wait. If the man had any sense, he would already be abed.

--

* * *

It was late afternoon when she woke. The slanting sunlight gave everything in the camp an ethereal glow. She was still a bit tired, with that hazy disconnect from the world, but she had instructed Lopin to wake her at least an hour before they moved on. He had acquiesced without question, as he should. There was a man she would not mind having as _da'covale_.

Once she had washed as best she could with only a washbasin, she dressed and left her tent in search of Toy. She found him not far away, just exiting his own tent. He had changed his coat, but otherwise looked no different than he had this morning. She could not tell whether he had slept. She hoped he had the sense to catch some sleep, at least.

His eyes brightened when he saw her. "Tuon! Did you sleep well?"

She inclined her head regally, her face composed. "I did. Do we move on soon?"

He nodded distractedly. "In an hour or so. Just waiting for the scouts. Shall we take a walk?"

"That would be acceptable."

No sooner had she consented than Selucia was at her shoulder. Toy smirked at her as he took Tuon's arm, prompting Tuon to frown at him disapprovingly. Though he had been careful to behave with propriety, he could hardly decline the need for a chaperone. It was not something she wished to discuss with him, however.

"The Band is very interesting, Toy," she observed.

He glanced at her, and then away. "That they are. I could not ask for better."

A nearby soldier, awake and counting crossbow bolts, overheard and beamed at Toy. He snapped out a salute as they passed, murmuring, "Lord Mat."

"You said you were not a lord."

"I'm not."

"How does a farmer from a tiny village end up leading an army of thirty thousand men?" she prodded.

He chuckled. "That is a story that would take more than an hour to tell, I'm afraid. I'm still not sure I understand how or why it happened, but I seem to be stuck with them. They have been useful, on several occasions."

She sensed he did not want to discuss the Band with her. She might have been disappointed at that, but she had to applaud his instincts. They still might be enemies in the future. He would not wish to share his secrets lightly.

They were near the horse-lines, far from any curious ears. Now would be a good time to broach a topic she had been considering since Talmanes' casual comment.

"You lied to me, Toy."

His gaze meandered over distant objects without purpose. "Did I?"

"About the Dragon Reborn. You said you knew nothing. Yet you grew up with him."

Toy's fingers tensed for a moment; then he shook his head. "Actually, I asked what there is to know. Besides, he's not the boy I thought I knew anymore. Doesn't have the same parents, or skills, or dreams, or attitudes. He can bloody channel, by the Light!"

"But those things you knew could help to understand him, all the same," Tuon pointed out.

"Tie more strings to him, you mean. I don't want to discuss this, Tuon. I'm not your route to the Dragon Reborn. I would be happy if I never saw him again."

"Toy…"

"No! End of discussion." He dropped her arm, bowed stiffly, and stalked away like a cat with its tail held high. Tuon watched him go with some puzzlement and not a little frustration. On most topics, he was open as summer sunlight. Yet here, he hedged and balked. It would take time to wear him down, as stubborn as he was. She had to hope it would be worth the effort. And the challenge.

Selucia's footsteps were soft as she stepped up to Tuon's side. "My Lady?"

Tuon forced a smile. I DO SO LOVE A CHALLENGE.

--

* * *

Four days later, Tuon had made no progress on her personal quest. She didn't feel too badly about it, however, because she only had short periods with Toy every day. It seemed they were constantly moving, fighting, or sleeping.

At the moment they were doing the first. She had been trying to track in her head how far they had come since reaching the Band. Forty leagues, at least; perhaps forty-five. The men did not look tired, though she thought they ought. They looked determined. Some of them were even singing that song about some fellow called Jak. She did not think the song could really be about death, no matter what Toy said. The men would not be able to sing it so heartily if that were so.

Ahead of her—she was letting him reconsider his reluctance to answer her questions—Toy halted his gelding and raised one arm in a signal. A scout was just visible through the trees, heading toward them. Tuon nudged Akein forward in order to hear.

"Found them, Lord Mat. Some two miles up the road, engaging a force of equal size," the scout reported.

Tuon frowned, wishing the man's account was more comprehensive. Found who? How big a force?

"Describe the terrain," Toy ordered.

The scout did so, verbally painting a picture of a ridge, sparse vegetation, and sandy terrain. Silence fell when he was done, but for the muted conversations going on behind them.

Toy turned to Edorian and Carlomin with an expectant look. "Shall we repeat our very first battle?"

The two lords exchanged a look. Carlomin started to grin. "Whatever you like, Lord Mat."

Toy considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Do it. Wait for my signal when you get there."

As the men turned to relay their orders, Toy sighed and pulled the brim of his hat down.

"Mysterious conceit does not suit you, Toy," Tuon informed him, bringing Akein a little closer.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You are being intentionally vague. Why do you conceal things from me, when I will discover them shortly, anyway?"

He gave her a puzzled frown. "I'm not hiding my tactics from you. You'll see them soon enough."

"What was that about your first battle?" she prodded.

"That's part of that long story you asked about. I thought they might find it humorous."

"And when can I expect to hear this story?" Tuon pressed.

"How about when we're not heading into a bloody battle?" he quipped. "Stay toward the back, Tuon." He freed his spear from where it was bound, and lifted it. He glanced once over his shoulder, nodded, and set off. He winked at her as he turned back around.

Tuon told herself she was not amused, but her lips betrayed her.

It was not a long ride, even heading in a wide arc off the road. Soon, Tuon could make out the shouts and crashes with which she was becoming all too familiar. Thankfully she could not see the battle from where she paused to wait behind the top of the ridge.

Toy must have given his signal, because the Band poured over the ridge in silence at first. Then they suddenly broke out in various battle cries. She could only surmise that they had been spotted.

"…no such thing!"

Tuon glanced to her left. Tessie and the other _marath'damane_ were waiting with a thin veneer of serenity not far away. One of the _sul'dam_ was looking chastised. Tuon did not care what they were arguing about, so long as it did not affect her. She would reteach them their places if it became necessary.

The screams of horses and men were thinning out, now. Briefly, Tuon considered what might happen if Toy lost. She could present herself before the Seanchan—surely there would be an officer from home who would know of her, at least. She could commandeer a contingent to escort her back to Ebou Dar. Or, she could be taken to a camp where a _raken_ would land, and go back that way. She could be back in the palace within the next day. No more of her soldiers would die so that Toy could escape.

With a sigh, she dismissed the fantasy. At the moment, it did not seem likely that would happen. Her promise would not permit her to make it happen.

MY LADY? Selucia queried.

Tuon's hands were languid as they rose to answer. IT IS NOTHING. MERELY MAKING CONTINGENCY PLANS. Even though they would not likely be used. She was beginning to consider the truth of Merrilin's comment about Toy being lucky. While they did not always escape their engagements unscathed, things always went better than he had a right to expect.

Yet another trait of which she could make excellent use, given the opportunity.

How would he feel, leading her armies against the oathbreakers, she wondered? Would the dichotomy of hoping simultaneously for victory and defeat tear at him, or would he be able to set it aside and focus on tactics?

The screams ended. No one came to reassure her of victory. Unwilling to wait any longer, Tuon rode to the top of the ridge and looked down. She perceived dead horses, dead men, broken arrows and pikes, and fallen banners scattered across the road. Among them walked men of the Band, helping up wounded comrades and draping their dead over empty mounts. She already knew they would be buried when they camped for the day.

In the middle of the mess, Tuon was relieved to see Toy speaking with the one who brought the Band south, Lord Talmanes. Neither looked quite as grim as might be expected from the carnage around them. Something made Toy glance up. He saw her, and smiled wide enough for her to see it.

So, she would ride with him a little longer.

--

* * *

Olver popped by her tent on the seventh day of Toy's campaign. Tuon was not certain where the boy had been throughout their mad dash toward the border or oblivion, whichever they found first. She had glimpsed the lad on occasion at a distance, and he always waved if he saw her. He looked so happy, grinning widely and bouncing in his saddle, that she hadn't the heart to chide him.

As they settled into a game of Snakes and Foxes, Tuon asked him, "Are you pleased to be here, Olver, and not with the Menagerie?"

Olver nodded enthusiastically as he picked up the dice. "Oh yes. It was fun for awhile, but it was getting old. Besides, I couldn't get left behind! Mat won't leave me behind again. He promised." He carefully counted the pips and moved his piece, concentrating fiercely.

"Oh? Did he leave you before?" Tuon asked casually.

"In Maerone. He made Lord Edorion find someone to look after me, but she only wanted the coin. I'm not charity, you know!"

"I did not think you were," Tuon soothed him. She took her turn with the dice before asking, "How did you meet him?"

"He stopped some Hunters from beating me up for sitting on their horse. He talked to me and made them feed me and buy me shoes." He wiggled his feet and regarded his footwear critically. "Except they're starting to wear out now, which is too bad. I suppose I'll have to buy the next pair myself. If we ever reach a town."

So Toy was also the sort to save strange peasant boys from beatings. After learning that he would not kill a woman, she found that less surprising than she might have expected. He was strangely honorable, for a self-professed gambler. Knowing that, surely Toy would provide for the boy, after taking him in?

"Do you have the money to buy your own things?" she asked aloud.

Olver straightened indignantly. "I earn my pay, just like anyone else. I have a little from the races in Ebou Dar, since Lord Mat won by betting on me. And he pays me to run messages. I've been doing that again, since we rejoined the Band."

Not wanting to step on a little boy's pride, Tuon could only say, "I see." She let that line of conversation lapse as they continued their game. She had much to think on.

She rather wished the thought of what kind of father Toy would make were not so prominent, though. There were so many other things for the Empress' heir to consider.

She didn't wonder why her chest felt warm, or her lips insisted on curving.

--

* * *

As with all plans, not everything could go Toy's way. Eventually someone among the Seanchan realized there was a threat, and laid out a strategy to counter it.

The Band had stumbled across a banner of horse they had not expected to find on the eighth day. Rather than letting word of his forces spread, Toy opted to give chase. A mile down the road, they charged right into an ambush. Three more banners of horse—almost ten thousand men—were waiting across the highway. About five banners of foot stood on the raised ground to the sides of the road. Even reunited, the Band was outnumbered almost two-to-one. Screams and shouts rose as the tables turned and the Band started to bleed.

That was all Tuon got a chance to see before Selucia stationed herself in front of her mistress. Then several burly soldiers, all wearing red armbands, surrounded them both and faced outward. She was too short to see over them, to her disappointment.

Of course, nothing stopped her from hearing the battle. Toy's voice was a shout as it relayed orders, calling for a solid line in front and on the flanks, then for crossbows. Other voices echoed his orders and passed them on with a great deal of additional cursing.

It was the crossbows that saved them. Someone among the Seanchan was shouting encouragement after the first volley. His voice cut off with a gurgle as the second volley was fired. Tuon winced.

The air nearly hummed with all the crossbows being fired, and the ratcheting of the cranks almost drowned out the crashes of pikes and shields.

After several minutes—perhaps ten—the sound of battle drifted a little away. Tuon's circle had stayed in roughly the same place throughout the chaos. Another ten minutes saw the Seanchan retreating to regroup.

The instant they were beyond earshot, Toy ordered nearby, "Gather up our dead and wounded, quickly! I've no desire to re-engage after their commander decides how to neutralize the crossbows. The sooner we're away, the happier I'll be."

One of his lords protested, "But, Lord Mat, we've got them-"

"Just do it!" Toy snapped. "Do you want to find out they've got a _damane_ nearby? Or a raken? _Go!_"

There was no more complaining. The men around Tuon dispersed, likely to follow Toy's orders.

"Running away, Toy? Where is the brave lion, now?" Tuon asked.

Toy snorted. "It is a foolish man indeed who refuses to retreat for fear of losing. Besides, our objective is better served this way."

Tuon frowned. That did not sound like something Toy would say. His eyes were not fixed on her, and she wondered what he was seeing.

Short-range scouts chose their route. By some feat of cunning or extraordinary luck, they avoided coming into contact with anyone else for the rest of the day. Toy pushed them harder than usual, not stopping until just before dawn. By then it was all most could do to unsaddle their horses before falling into their blankets.

--

* * *

Six days and several successful ambushes later, they rode uphill toward the Narrows. It was still early to stop, but they halted several miles away and set up a proper camp anyway. As had become routine, scouts went out immediately to comb their surroundings.

Tuon could hardly believe they had made it this far. Toy had led the Seanchan in a merry dance, always one step ahead and choosing the tune. That one ambush had been the only time they had been unprepared, or so badly outnumbered. His losses had been relatively few, compared to what they _should_ have been. Some of the forces he had defeated had not been raw recruits from this side of the ocean.

As she waited for her tent to be ready, she watched the men. They were notably more cheerful, whistling and joking with each other as they made fires, dug latrines, or picketed the horses. They knew they were almost free, and they knew they had done well to come so far. Their relief was obvious in relaxed shoulders and easy laughs.

More than once, she heard someone remark matter-of-factly, "I knew Lord Mat would do it."

The first thing Tuon did once her tent was pitched was indulge in a proper bath. Opportunities to bathe had been few and far between, and chances to have a hot, slow soak were even rarer.

Then she had the tea and roast rabbit Lopin brought her. She let Selucia pamper her a bit before turning in to bed.

She did not wake until mid-morning. Breakfast was more rabbit. Tuon was beginning to miss the variety of food offered even with Luca's show, let alone the elegance of the Tarasin Palace. She had hopes that once this campaign was over, decent lodging and proper food would be procured.

After her usual ablutions, she left her tent. It was one of only three that she could see, tucked into a little hollow. She knew Toy's was one, and presumed the other was for the _marath'damane_. Everyone else slept rolled in their blankets a little ways from the fires.

She went to check on Akein, though she fervently hoped there would be no riding today. While she was no longer sore, she would welcome the chance to stand or walk about as she liked.

Her mare nickered in greeting and breathed into her hand. She stroked her horse's nose fondly. Smiling, she offered Akein a carrot Selucia handed her.

"I would think you'd be tired of looking at horses, after the last fortnight."

"Good morning, Toy," Tuon said, without turning. To Selucia, she signed AFTER ALL MY WORK, HE STILL HAS THE MANNERS OF A PIG. I AM AT A LOSS.

PERHAPS IT IS A LOST CAUSE, MY LADY, Selucia returned. Tuon was not yet willing to concede that that might be so.

"Good morning Tuon, Selucia. How are you today?" Toy asked, as if the greeting were his own idea.

Tuon sniffed and stilled her face before turning to look at him. "I am well, though perhaps not eager for a ride just yet. I wished to show Akein my appreciation for all her hard work. She has carried me so far without complaint."

Toy nodded, eyes on the razor. "That she has." His eyes drifted back to Tuon. "Have _you_ any complaints?"

Tuon considered for a long moment before answering, "Not at present."

He smiled at that, and offered his arm. "Would you care to walk with me, Tuon?"

"Thank you, Toy. I believe I would." She laid her hand lightly on his arm, allowing him no more intimacy than that.

After walking several minutes in silence, Tuon remarked, "Your men have done very well, to come so far, so fast."

Toy nodded. "I emphasized speed from the first. An army that is quick on its feet is less likely to find itself outflanked, or arriving with allies already defeated. It has become their strength." His gaze went to a green-clad scout approaching. "Excuse me a moment." He dropped her arm and went to meet the scout. They held a whispered conference, of which Tuon caught nothing. They were speaking too fast, and too far away. Toy did not look alarmed, though, and he returned to her at a leisurely pace after he dismissed the scout.

"Shall we continue, milady?" he asked with a bow. Tuon decided not to question him at the moment. She also chose not to take his arm again. Toy didn't seem to notice.

They had been walking for perhaps half an hour and were nearly back to the horse-lines when Toy's head turned, sensing some sort of disturbance. By now, Tuon was used to the way he always seemed to know what was happening in his camp. She wasn't sure how he managed it, but that awareness was a good skill to have. She could think of several ways to make use of it.

"What is it?" she asked, curious.

A red-arm ran up to them, bracing his hands on his knees only briefly to catch his breath. "Lord Mat, in the camp! They're here!"

The man did not elaborate on who 'they' were. However, their walk had been interrupted no less than three more times by red-arms or scouts reporting directly to Toy. At least one of them must have warned him about potential visitors, because he did demand clarification.

"Blood and ashes!" Toy swore. He sprinted toward his gelding. He didn't even pause to saddle the horse, just pulled up the picket and vaulted unto its back. Tuon had no choice but to imitate him in a slightly more decorous manner. High Ladies did not flash their skirts at soldiers no matter what the provocation.

The ride was quick. Men moved smartly out of the way as soon as Toy approached, and returned to their business after. Oh, there were plenty of craning necks and curious glances, but none of the men seemed inclined to follow. Tuon was more convinced than ever that she absolutely must have Toy train her armies.

Whatever Toy had expected to find, it was not what they found. Toy was out of his saddle almost before Tuon recognized his intention to dismount. "What's bloody going on here?"

She glanced towards the tableau around the fire briefly, then back at Toy. She had instantly recognized the Deathwatch Guards, of course, and Banner-General Furyk Karede, who was more devoted to her than most. It seemed the Seanchan had finally caught up with them. How would Toy handle this situation?

"She has us shielded, Mat," the _marath'damane_ who would be Rosi reported. The woman looked slightly uncomfortable with the situation—all three of them did—but none evinced fear.

Toy immediately approached the _der'sul'dam_, Malitene. Tuon noted her favorite _damane_, Mylen, there as well. Well, someone had certainly deliberated over this search party. She would have to reward whoever was responsible.

"Release the shield," Toy ordered. The _der'suldam_ and _damane_ both gasped as one, and Tuon presumed they had tried to use the Power on him. She well remembered her own shock when she couldn't touch him through the _damane_. Now she was perversely pleased that he was so well protected. It let her see more of what he would do next.

Toy gave a mirthless laugh and coldly informed the women, "You see, it doesn't work on me. Now you bloody well release the shields, or I'll bloody well haul you out of the saddle and paddle your bottoms."

Melitene was clearly displeased, but Karede was an intelligent man. "Release the shields, Melitene."

The woman's ensuing protest would definitely earn her some sort of reteaching when Tuon got hold of her. An order from the Deathwatch in this situation ought to be obeyed. "The _marath'damane_ was on the point of embracing _saidar_. There's no telling what she might have—"

"Release the shields," Karede repeated, "and release the Power."

After a moment, Toy nodded, satisfied, before spinning to point an admonishing finger at the three _marath'damane_. "Now don't you bloody well start! She's let go of the Power. You do it, too. Go ahead!" After a moment, he nodded again. Tuon felt a tingle run down her spine. He was _so_ commanding of late.

"One of these days, Mat Cauthon, someone will teach you to show proper respect to Aes Sedai, and I hope I am there to see it."

Tuon burst out laughing. She couldn't resist. Toy already showed the 'proper respect' regarding _marath'damane_, in her opinion, and was much too stubborn to change his attitude, in any case. She looked forward to teaching Rosi the proper respect for the Seanchan, and making her rue those words.

She sat back and merely watched contemplatively as Karede made his grand speech and Master Merrilin corrected his misapprehension. Then Toy called his bluff, detailing his awareness of the Seanchan numbers and positions. That must be what the messengers had been all about, today. Then he surprised her by saying, "The real question is this, though. Can you get Tuon to the Tarasin Palace safely?"

Tuon's fingers twitched on Akein's reins, her only concession to the emotions running through her blood like lightning. Was he really going to do it? Was he finally going to fulfill Lidya's Telling? She didn't know whether she wanted him to do so, or not.

She was not the only one in shock. Karede clearly did not know what to think. "You mean to let me take her away?"

"If she trusts you. If you can get her to the palace safely. She's in danger till she reaches that." And likely after, but if he wasn't aware of that Tuon certainly wasn't going to inform him. Not if it would risk summoning his protective streak. She rebuked herself sharply and forced herself to listen to the rest. "…it, your whole bloody Ever Victorious flaming Army is ready to slit her throat or bash her head in with a rock." Idly, Tuon wished she could see his eyes. They must be on _fire_, from the sound of his voice. She repressed a shiver.

"I know." Karede seemed to be calming. "We will die to the man if that is what is needed to see her safe. It will be best if we set out immediately."

"Not so fast." Toy looked at her then, and his face was more serious than she had yet seen it. Not even in Maderin, or leading the Band in battle after ambush after raid, had he been so solemn. "Tuon, do you trust this man to see you safe to the palace in Ebou Dar?"

There was only one answer to that. If Toy had been Seanchan, he would not have had to ask. "I trust the Deathwatch Guards with my life, and him more than any other." She smiled at Karede, to ease his concern. "Do you by any chance still have my doll, Banner-General Karede?"

He bowed respectfully to her. "Forgiveness, High Lady. I lost everything in the Great Fire of Sohima."

"That means you kept it for ten years. You have my commiseration on the loss of your wife, and of your son, though he died bravely and well. Few men will enter a burning building once. He saved five people before he was overcome."

Karede bowed again, but said nothing.

"Enough of that. You're going to knock your head on the ground if you keep that up," Toy grumbled. Someday, Tuon vowed, she _would_ teach him some manners. "As soon as she and Selucia can get their things together, you can take them out of here and ride hard. Talmanes, roust the Band. It isn't that I don't trust you, Karede, but I think I'll sleep easier beyond the Narrows."

He was doing it! Tuon caught her breath briefly, and scrambled to think over the roaring in her ears. The very air around her suddenly seemed expectant, waiting. This was the moment. There could be no going back.

"Matrim Cauthon is my husband." She paused briefly to let that sink in, and was rewarded when everyone froze as if time itself had stopped. "Matrim Cauthon is my husband." His brown eyes were wide and fixed on her face. He hadn't a clue why she would do this, she knew, but _he_ had started it in the first place. And he knew what it meant, by now. "Bloody Matrim Cauthon is my husband. That _is_ the wording you used, is it not?"

The look on Matrim's face was _priceless_.

_

* * *

AN: This was just too perfect a place to stop. Please do review or answer my poll, since the response I get will determine how I write the next chapter._

_I have not yet read Gathering Storm (It's on request) so please, no spoilers!_


	15. He Shall Set You Free

_AN: This should not have taken this long, but life has a way of taking over sometimes. The flow still isn't right, but with several reviews in a short span reminding me of it, I'm just going to post what I have. Also, finally made use of the Wheel of Time Wiki, and it is awesome (because paging through 700 pages looking for one name is not)._

_Disclaimer: Had I written WOT, no way would the series have lasted 14 books. The dialogue at the beginning is lifted from KOD p 735-737, US hardcover edition._

* * *

**He Shall Set You Free**

For such a life-changing event, getting married was such a simple, direct action.

Of course, her husband being who he was, everything had to be twice as complicated as necessary. Tuon was certain that the day she managed to predict his movements in full would be the day after she buried him.

She had several minutes to savor the surprise on every face, Karede no less than Matrim, before the tableau broke. With a dramatic flourish, Matrim removed his hat and stalked over to her. He grabbed at _Akein's_ bridle, and Tuon had to restrain a cool reprimand. This was not the moment.

"Why? I mean, I knew you were going to sooner or later." Tuon hid her surprise at that. Was he so arrogant, or had he had some nudge, as she had? She refocused on Matrim's words with a stern mental rebuke. "…maybe more than like you, and I enjoy kissing you, but you haven't behaved like a woman in love. You're ice half the time and spend most of the rest digging under my skin."

"Love?" Tuon repeated, startled anew. It took her a moment to remember that Matrim was not born to the Blood. As a commoner, he could fancy that love and marriage were paired. Tuon knew better. She had not married Matrim because she _loved_ him, no matter what she thought of his kisses. "Perhaps we will come to love one another, Matrim," if she didn't order him killed across a battlefield first, "but I have always known I would marry to serve the Empire. What do you mean, you _knew_ that I was going to speak the words?"

"Call me Mat."

Her fingers tightened minutely on the reins when he avoided the question. "Your name is Matrim. What did you mean?" Steel entered her voice. She had to know. Why had she never thought to ask why he was pursuing her before this moment? It wasn't awe of the Blood, and it wasn't her appearance: she had known that since the moment he asked how old she was. What had caused him to begin the ceremony, and _why hadn't she asked this earlier?_ Had she taken leave of her senses?

Matrim had the temerity to sigh, as if _he_ were being put upon. "I went through a _ter'angreal_ to somewhere else, another world maybe. The people there aren't really people—they look like snakes—but they'll answer three questions for you, and their answers are always true. One of mine was that I'd marry the Daughter of the Nine Moons. But you haven't answered my question. Why now?"

Of all Matrim's stories, this was perhaps the most outlandish. Smiling in spite of herself, Tuon leaned down to knock him on the head. "Your superstitions are bad enough, Matrim, but I won't tolerate lies. An amusing lie, true, but still a lie."

He pretended to be injured, replacing his hat and looking wounded. "It's the Light's own truth! You could learn for yourself if you could make yourself talk to an Aes Sedai. They could tell you about the Aelfinn and Eelfinn."

On cue, one of the _marath'damane_ said, "It could be the truth. The Aelfinn can be reached through a _ter'angreal_ in the Stone of Tear, so I understand, and supposedly they give true answers."

Tuon was more interested in however Matrim had gotten the woman to go along with his story, than with what the woman actually said. She wished to hear his _real_ answer.

"I answered your question, Tuon, so you answer mine," he pressed.

Very well, she would give the stubborn man his wish, and may he choke on it. "You know that _damane_ can tell fortunes?" She paused and waited for his nod before continuing. "I asked Lidya to tell mine just before I landed at Ebou Dar. This is what she said. 'Beware the fox that makes the ravens fly, for he will marry you and carry you away. Beware the man who remembers Hawkwing's face, for he will marry you and set you free. Beware the man of the red hand, for him you will marry and none other.' It was your ring that caught my eye first." She saw him thumb the ring. She had noticed that he seemed to forget it was there on occasion, but she never did the same. "A fox apparently startling two ravens into flight and nine crescent moons. Suggestive, wouldn't you say? And just now you fulfilled the second part, so I knew for certain it was you." Though she still wondered how Matrim could remember Hawkwing's face. And there _was_ the red hand that was apparently the symbol of Matrim's army. She could worry about the third part later.

Selucia made a sound of protest, which Tuon quelled swiftly. PEACE. IT WILL BE WELL. She could reassure her shadow later.

Matrim laughed, and Tuon wondered if he disbelieved her. But his eyes did not dance as they did when he found something humorous. She waited impatiently for an explanation.

"Seems to me being _ta'veren_ works on me as much as it does anybody else." Before Tuon could chide him for his superstitions, he gave his most charming smile. "One more kiss before you leave?"

Tuon could hardly bend to manipulation that blatant in front of the Deathwatch. "I'm not in the mood at the moment. Perhaps later. You could return to Ebou Dar with me. You have an honored place in the Empire now."

She felt gratified that he seemed disappointed when she denied him a kiss, but the pleasure faded when he shook his head. "The next time I see Seanchan, I expect it will be on the field somewhere, Tuon. You're not my enemy, but your Empire is."

There was no reason for the hollow feeling behind her ribcage, she told herself sternly. This was expected. She forced herself to reply, "Nor are you my enemy, husband, but I live to serve the Empire."

"Well, I suppose you'd better get your things…" He paused as Vanin came galloping up, halting his horse next to her. The man spared only a glance for the Deathwatch before reporting, "There's ten thousand or so soldiers at a little town about five miles west of here. Only one man Seanchan, near as I could learn. Rest are Altarans, Taraboners, Amadicians. All mounted. Thing is, they're asking after fellows wearing armor like that." He indicated Karede with the same unconcern he might have reported about turnips. "And rumor says the one of them that kills a girl that sounds a lot like the High Lady gets himself a hundred thousand crowns gold. Their mouths are dripping for it."

Well. That was not welcome news. A little chill went down Tuon's spine, but she suppressed it quickly. This was not the first time someone had tried to kill her, and it would not be the last.

"I can slip past them," Karede avowed.

"And if you can't?" Matrim asked, his voice like a _rakan's_ wing: fragility belying power. "It can't be chance they're this close. They've caught some sniff of you. One more smell might be all it takes to kill Tuon." An interesting analogy, but it cut to the heart of the matter.

"Do you intend to go back on your word?" Even a child could hear the threat in Karede's voice, and Tuon wondered how Matrim would calm him.

Her husband looked anything but calm. He looked at her as a drowning man might look, as if she were oxygen. It was not a comfortable feeling, but she said nothing. This was his choice, and her life was already in his hands.

She _saw_ him make the decision, saw the fire in his eyes, though she couldn't read it. "No. She goes with you. But you leave me a dozen of your Deathwatch Guards and some of the Gardeners. If I'm going to take these people off your back, I need them to think I'm you."

Tuon abruptly felt that she _never_ wanted to face Matrim as an enemy.

* * *

…

It had not taken long at all to pack, since Tuon left most of her things behind. In much less than an hour, she was mounting _Akein_. She glanced back only once at her husband. He looked more like a lion than ever, stalking about with a fierce determination on his face. The camp had become a buzz of activity, as Matrim's soldiers shifted their efforts from rest and travel to preparing for battle. After the last few weeks, she knew just how competent the Band was. She would not worry.

She turned back around before the camp disappeared behind the trees, distracting herself by conversing with Karede. Her Banner-General's assessment matched with her own—on a superficial level, since no one could truly know Matrim from less than a lifetime of study—though she did not know about his claims of love. Emotion was not a luxury she usually permitted herself.

Even so, she had a notion she was going to miss her husband.

* * *

…

It was nearing evening on the second full day of travel when the Deathwatch they had left behind caught up with them. Their captain brought his mount alongside Karede and bowed from the saddle. In one hand was a bag that was stained on the bottom. "Highness."

"Musenge, what have you to report?" Karede asked. His eyes remained on the road, the trees, and the sky overhead.

"The Prince laid a trap across the road, near a swamp, and sent four deathwatch to the town to draw out the hunters. When they came, the cavalry came up behind them in a classic hammer and anvil. Between the horse, the crossbows, the _marath'damane_, and the explosive devices, all died. We brought you the traitor's head." Musenge directed his mount with his knees as he drew from the bag the head of Elbar, High Lady Suroth's man. Tuon's thoughts raced as she made conclusions and plans. As fast as the web untangled before her, another was already weaving.

"You have done well, Captain," Tuon pronounced. "Keep it safe, that we may confront the High Lady Suroth with her treachery before witnesses."

"As you say, Highness." He replaced the head in the bag, and tied it shut.

"Captain, what of the Prince?" she asked, her voice dispassionate.

"A most able man, Highness, and a wise one. He refrained from the battle himself, and took only scratches." He paused, then added, "He did not realize his elevation in rank until I told him."

"How did he react?"

Musenge frowned slightly. "He laughed."

Tuon couldn't help a wry smile. That sounded like Matrim. He had been so adamant that he was not a lord. To find that he was now a prince would not have been welcome. She would enjoy instructing him in his responsibilities, when she got the chance.

* * *

…

Riding past the third torn stretch of road in as many days, Karede murmured, "Your husband is a very dangerous man, Highness."

Tuon ran her eyes absently over the holes caused by Matrim's 'dragon eggs' and the dark patches staining the road. "That he is." To whom he posed the most danger was a puzzle Tuon couldn't yet answer, but the fact that he was dangerous was not in question.

"When I spoke to Banner-General Loune, we surmised the mastermind might be one Thom Merrilin."

That made Tuon smile. "Master Merrilin is many dangerous things, but a military genius is not one of them." The old man was certainly a spy, a fine stones-player, and a cunning director of crowds; but hardly a general. He had been as bewildered by some of Matrim's master strokes as the _marath'damane_, or Olver.

"That makes the Prince all the more frightening," Karede remarked. "To direct a campaign of this magnitude, with only eight thousand men, unaided and at his age…when he has gained some experience, he will surely out-plan the greatest generals on this side of the Aryth Ocean."

IF HE LIVES SO LONG, Selucia signed with a sniff.

"I am certain you are correct," Tuon agreed mildly, not clarifying to whom she was speaking. They were both right.

"In that case, I hope he's at your side when it happens," Karede stated solemnly. "I do not relish the thought of trying to defeat him."

"He would make a much better ally than an enemy," was all Tuon would say on the matter.

* * *

…

When not held to the pace of plodding wagons or early stops at every hamlet and town, the distance to Ebou Dar seemed much shorter. The time passed much more quickly, at least, as Tuon directed her attention to Akein's reins and Banner-General Karede's report on what she had missed.

The dying wildlife was hardly a distraction at all. And if every time she stroked Akein's neck she thought of Matrim, wondering where he was now…it was only a few wasted moments out of all the hours in a day.

If her hand strayed to stroke the rosebuds pinned to her dress a dozen times a day, no one mentioned it.

* * *

…

Ebou Dar looked as it had from the day Tuon had landed to take over the _Corenne_, but there was a feeling to the air of some great portent. Tuon straightened in her saddle and barely resisted the urge to run a hand over her scalp.

Then she saw the buzzard sitting quietly on the roof of the gatehouse, and her heart went to ice.

She did not have to say a word to discover the news on every tongue: the Empress had been assassinated.

Her mother, her sovereign, was dead.

Like pebbles dropping heavily into a still pool came the rest of the news. The deaths of all her family back in Seandar. The reaction of High Lady Suroth and Captain-General Galgan. The disappearance of _soe'feia _Anath.

She heard and listened, as was her duty, but everything paled beside the knowledge that the rock of her world had crumbled.

But no, that was incorrect. She had two stones remaining to serve as support. One was the Empire, and her service to it. As the only remaining Paendrag, it was her duty to stand strong. It was under the mantle of duty that she commanded her escort to halt and find ashes with which to adorn their cheeks. Duty drove her to push on to the palace and straight to deal with the former High Lady. Her steps, her voice, her eyes were all aimed toward her duty to the Empire.

She would not allow her thoughts to stumble over the other.

* * *

…

_AN: Completely did not expect this to end the way it did. I was __**going**_ _to take it through the end of KOD, but Tuon insisted this was the stopping point. As my muses have all disappeared, I am forced to bow to the wishes of my character._

_**Edit, 8/25/12**. Changed the last line with some help from Zorpisuttle to be less confusing.  
_

_Also, if anyone reading this is arty, I would love a pic for this story :)_


End file.
